


Birds of a Feather

by serotoninDeficient



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorders, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Janus and Remus are in an open relationship, M/M, Post-Episode: Selfishness v. Selflessness, Self-Harm, Spoilers for Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, there is no cheating in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 25,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serotoninDeficient/pseuds/serotoninDeficient
Summary: They say birds of a feather flock together. Apparently that statement holds true even when all of the figurative birds are visualized aspects of your personality.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 165
Kudos: 190





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please be advised that this fic contains quite a bit of triggering content: mainly, self-harm and disordered eating patterns. Read at your own risk.  
> *I do not own any of the characters or media discussed in this fic. All characters belong to Thomas Sanders.*

They say birds of a feather flock together. Janus knows this better than most sides.

He knows a lot of things.

For example, he knows that Remus tries very hard to suppress his destructive urges, or to take them out on the beings he creates in the Imagination, but he doesn’t always succeed. The hundreds of times he’s had to hold his boyfriend as he cried, or to stitch him back together like a character from one of Virgil’s favorite movies, is more than enough to tell him that.

He knows that Virgil struggles a lot more than he’ll ever let on, that there is a very good reason why he never takes off his hoodie. He knows that Virgil hasn’t stopped, and that he refuses any and all help Janus and Remus try to offer, and that none of the so-called “light” sides have caught on yet.

He knows that the “light” sides are poorly named, indeed.

He knows Logan is a workaholic who refuses to admit he can feel. He knows Roman is vain to the point of self-destruction. He knows Patton has been repressing his true feelings for so long, he’s forgotten what it feels like not to. There is nothing light about them.

And none of them will stop lying about it, to themselves or to each other.


	2. Infinitesimal

The first time Logan hurt himself was March 6th, 2017, at approximately 8:44 PM. He remembers this clearly, because he remembers everything clearly.

Technically speaking, the first time Logan _deliberately_ hurt himself was two days later, at approximately 11:53 PM, but the incident on March 6th was what sparked it.

He had been working slowly, unable to clear his head despite his best efforts. No matter what he did, Morality’s jabs from their most recent bout of filming kept echoing in his ears.

_“Ohh, he misused the word ‘infinitesimal’ last week! He thought it meant really big, but it actually means really small!”_

Those comments had stirred up all kinds of feelings -- feelings that Logan did not want to have. He was Logic; what use did Logic have for shame or embarrassment?

All the same, the words circled through his head, over and over. After several minutes of sitting at his desk, pen unmoving on paper, he decided that stepping away from his desk for a fresh cup of coffee would perhaps help to shift his mind back to his work.

Morality had finished cleaning up from dinner some time ago, so the kitchen was empty, save for himself. Logan filled the coffeemaker with water in a daze, hardly noticing that he almost knocked over the bag of coffee grounds as he closed the coffeemaker’s lid and turned it on.

_“He thought it meant really big, but it actually means really small!”_

The coffeemaker beeped, and Logan began pouring the hot liquid into his favorite mug entirely on autopilot. He didn’t notice when the mug became full, or when coffee began to spill over onto the counter. He didn’t notice anything until a door slammed somewhere in the mindscape, and he startled, hot coffee splashing onto his idle right hand.

For a moment, as Logan stared down at the pink skin stretching from his fingers to his wrist, all he could feel was pain. Pain, and blissful quiet in his ears.

It wasn’t until later, when he was back at his desk, his hand having been carefully cleaned and bandaged, that he thought to ask what had caused his mind to silence itself so.

Two days later, the sting of being ignored yet again fresh and painful, Logan looked down at his bandaged right hand and, slowly, wrote out the hypothesis that had been forming in the back of his mind. Of course, the next step of the scientific method was to test the hypothesis to determine whether or not it was true.

He stood up from his desk and walked into his ensuite bathroom, where he found a freshly conjured scalpel and first-aid kit waiting for him, complete with sanitary gloves and a suture kit, should he need it. He told himself that he just wanted to find out more about how pain affects one’s ability to concentrate, that this wasn’t emotional and it wasn’t going to happen again. It had ~~everything~~ nothing to do with the rush of endorphins he’d experienced when the coffee had burned him. He simply needed to test his hypothesis.

* * *

“For the love of Archimedes, I will never intentionally make a pun!” Logan snaps as he sinks out of the living room, reappearing in the common area of the mindscape, alone. Patton can be… exhausting, at times, to say the least, and while Logan doesn’t altogether dislike him -- or his puns -- his inability to take anything Logan says seriously is more than a bit frustrating.

It isn’t until Logan makes it to the safety of his room that he allows himself to feel the full weight of everything that’s happened today. Not only had Deceit impersonated him, but he’d been forced to sit in the back of the courtroom like a petulant child, watching as Deceit ran figurative circles around Patton, who was playing the role that rightfully should have belonged to Logan. He’d done his best to appear unbothered in front of the others, but… he’s actually quite hurt. A courtroom scenario is exactly the kind of thing he ~~loves~~ is meant for, but instead he had been forced to sit by while the others did his job for him.

_Perhaps Thomas doesn’t need Logic,_ he thinks, then shakes himself. He’s being irrational; of course Thomas needs Logic. Whether or not he has a physical presence, he’s always present within Thomas, to some degree.

~~Whether Thomas needs Logan is… a different matter entirely. Today more than made it clear that the others could get along without him if need be.~~

Logan makes his way to his ensuite bathroom and begins to remove his jeans, folding them carefully and setting them on the bathroom counter. He’s emotionally compromised after the day’s events, and there is only one way to fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I just found a tweet from Thomas that said Logan wears jeans. Oops... It's fixed now.


	3. Team Callback

Roman lies on the floor, panting. He’d returned to his room almost an hour ago, and had been exercising hard ever since. The room spins slowly around him, but he doesn’t want to eat, especially after today. He still couldn’t believe he’d almost sided with _Deceit._ He’s the good twin -- the hero! How could he have ever agreed with such a villain, even for a moment?

~~His stomach feels like it’s eating itself.~~

After a long minute, Roman pushes himself into a sitting position. Patton would be coming to get him for dinner soon, whether Roman wanted to go or not, and it wouldn’t do for anyone to see him looking anything less than perfect. ~~Not that he ever looked perfect.~~

As he stands and makes his way to the bathroom for a shower, the metal glint of his sword catches his eye, calling to mind the other sharp metal thing he has stashed in this room. _Should I…?_ He asks himself. He’d lost Thomas the callback, after all, and God only knew how much he was about to eat. Patton was big on the idea of “comfort food”, and after the day they’d had, there was sure to be a lot of it for dinner. ~~He didn’t know the most comforting food Roman knew was the lack of it.~~

No, he decides. Not right now. He would certainly have to pay for his mistakes today, but first, he had a meal to get ready for. Virgil was like a bloodhound, anyway; sometimes Roman thinks Virgil can smell it if you’re nervous about something. It wouldn’t do to give him any reason to be suspicious.

~~Besides, if any of the sides was likely to have prior experience with self harm, it was Virgil. Roman didn’t want to risk him picking up on something if he cut before dinner.~~

For obvious reasons, famILY meals tended to be uncomfortable more often than not.

* * *

Down in the dark side, Janus is lying on the couch, where he had flopped face down the moment he returned, his mind too full of thoughts to sit properly. He’d won -- he’d actually _won_ \-- and it had all still gone horribly wrong.

Thomas wanted to go to the callback. He’d even said so himself! But somehow… somehow, they’d decided on the wedding anyway.

A small, vindictive part of him hopes the others suffer for this. The larger part knows that A) they already will, at their own hands -- the self-preservation instincts on that lot are _infuriatingly_ nonexistent -- and B) both the wedding and the fallout would only be detrimental to Thomas’ mental health in the long run, and there was next to nothing he could do to stop it now.

It didn’t help matters that the entire time he’d been in the courtroom, he could hear the lies the others were telling themselves. Logan with his “I’m fine” and Patton with his “I’m doing what’s right” and Roman with his “I can’t trust a dark side” and Virgil with his “I don’t miss him” and his “I was right to leave.”

That last one hurt the most, even though Janus knew it was a lie. He still hates himself for how poorly he had handled the situation with Virgil. Of course Janus had known when Virgil started hurting himself; it was hard not to, with the boy’s constant stream of “It’s not a big deal” and “No one needs to know.” He’d tried to let Virgil come to him on his own time, but it had never happened, and the longer it went on, the worse Virgil got. He was worried, and he’d handled it poorly, and Virgil had left to join the light sides. He and Remus still keep an eye on Virgil, of course, but there isn’t much they can do to help when he refuses to even look at them.

In Janus’ defense, Virgil had only been getting worse, and he was at a loss for how to handle it. He’d dealt with self-harm before, of course -- one doesn’t spend years being called a Scooby Doo villain without developing some self-esteem issues -- but it was… different, for Virgil. It mattered more. Janus knows Remus would pout at him if he heard him say that, but it’s true. Janus is self-preservation incarnate; he knew he wasn’t going to do anything that would put him in serious danger. But Virgil… Virgil is Anxiety. He gets so worked up, and he can’t think clearly when he does that. There’s no telling what kind of damage he might do, whether he means to do it or not. None of them knew whether sides could die, and Janus didn’t want to be the one to find out, especially not that way. So he’d gone to his paramour for help, and when Virgil found out that Janus had told Remus without Virgil’s consent… he left. He’d been leaning towards the light sides for a while, but that breach of trust was the final straw. It didn’t matter how Janus tried to explain; the fact of the matter was that Janus had told Virgil’s secret without Virgil’s permission, and Virgil refused to see it any other way.

At the end of the hall, a door creaks open. “Dee-Dee?” Remus calls, knowing Janus doesn’t like him using his real name unless they were alone. “Are you back?”

Janus grunts an affirmation, voice muffled by the couch cushions.

Remus walks out to the living room and perches on the arm of the couch, his fingers playing with the bits of Janus’ hair that aren’t covered by his bowler hat. “You wanna come in and talk about it?”

Forcing himself to sit up, Janus nods, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the orange side’s door. Though that particular side tends to be reclusive and doesn’t leave his room much, Remus and Janus still prefer to have their more serious conversations in private.

Janus starts to climb to his feet, but Remus is quicker, sweeping him dramatically into his arms. He is still half of Creativity, after all, and both twins are hopeless romantics. Janus giggles, blushing and hiding his face in Remus’ shoulder. Things might have gone horribly in the courtroom, but Remus always knows how to make him smile.


	4. Team Wedding

“Then we’re all cool here. Now, I’m gonna go be cool somewhere else.”

Virgil makes for his room the moment he reaches the common area. He’d been on the edge of freaking out for most of the episode, and he didn’t think he could hold it together much longer. God, he hopes Patton stays to talk to Thomas for a minute; he really doesn’t need the headspace’s father’s doting concern right now.

~~Yes, he does.~~

Once the door is safely shut behind him, Virgil immediately sinks to the ground, pulling his hood up and curling himself into a ball. God, everything about that was _horrible._ And he didn’t miss those looks ~~Janus~~ Deceit kept throwing his way. He’d probably been able to hear Virgil lying to himself the whole time, but lying to himself was the only way he’d managed to avoid having a panic attack in the middle of the courtroom. When Deceit had said that Virgil wasn’t a beacon of truth… fuck, he was so scared that Deceit was going to lay him bare for everyone to see. He’d already told Remus; what was to stop him from telling everyone else, too? What would happen if they _did_ find out? Would they turn on him? Kick him out of the famILY? Send him back to live with the dark sides? He can’t go back -- he _won’t_.

If they found out, what would he do? What _could_ he do?

Shit, he’s hyperventilating. What was that breathing exercise he made everyone learn? Four-seven-something. Eight? He can’t remember if that’s right, but it’s the best chance he has.

Virgil breathes in for four seconds, but he chokes on the holding and exhales hard at five. He takes a couple more gasping breaths before he manages to breathe in again, and this time he makes it all the way through the exercise. Okay, good. It’s working. Again.

He repeats the exercise, four-seven-eight, until his lungs stop burning so much. It’s only then that he notices he’s been scratching at his arms while he panicked. God, he hopes he hasn’t gotten blood on his hoodie. All of the sides are figments of Thomas’ imagination, so it would have been easy to clean up, but knowing that there _had_ been blood on his hoodie would make it feel like it would never go away.

* * *

“Ding! Going down!”

Patton’s laughter dies away as he reappears in the mindscape’s common area, alone. Everyone else has already gone back to their rooms, and they presumably want some time to be alone after everything that’s happened today. That suits Patton just fine; he needs ~~a hug~~ to make dinner, anyway.

~~He wants to go back to his room; he needs to _hurt_ . ~~ Donning his favorite apron -- it’s blue, and it says “That’s How I Roll” in curly white letters, with a picture of a rolling pin on it -- he starts pulling out the ingredients to make waffles. It’s dinnertime, sure, but breakfast for dinner has always been one of Patton’s favorites, and he thinks everyone could use a little comfort right now.

_Logan hates breakfast for dinner,_ he remembers belatedly, already mixing the eggs and flour. _He’s going to be upset if I serve waffles._

With a sigh, Patton pours the half-mixed batter down the drain and puts away the ingredients, pulling out the stuff to make a casserole instead. Casseroles were classic comfort food. Who could say no to a casserole?

_Roman prefers lasagna,_ he chides himself. Alright, well, it will just have to be a lasagna, then. Roman has been looking awfully thin as of late, and Patton knows he’s probably taking the news about the callback particularly hard. On impulse, he decides to whip up a special batch of thumbprint cookies with Crofter’s, just for Roman. He knows Roman loves Crofter’s, but he doesn’t get to have it very often because Logan usually claims the jars first, no matter how often Patton tells him to share.

It’s easy to let his mind wander as he cooks, stacking layers of sauce and cheese on top of the long roads of lasagna noodles. He tries not to -- baking is usually such a good distraction for him, even if he technically isn't baking because he hasn’t started on the cookies yet -- but no matter how deliberately he places the noodles, he still finds his mind wandering back to the courtroom.

He’d lied to Thomas. Sure, Thomas hadn’t been upset by it, but he’d still _lied._ He’s supposed to be Morality; what kind of moral compass is he if he can lie to his host like that? How is he any better than Deceit?

Absently, Patton finds himself chewing on his lip as he slides the lasagna into the oven. He’s still chewing on it as he plunges his hands in and out of the soapy water in the sink; it would have been easy to snap the dishes clean, but Patton likes doing things by hand. It’s a nice distraction -- not that he needs distracting, of course. He’s fine! Dandy, even!

He tries not to think about the scars, both old and new, that line his thighs. It’s fine. He’s _fine._

His lip starts to bleed.


	5. FamILY Bonding

Virgil stands in the bathroom, brushing eyeshadow onto his skin with a careful hand. The black streaks that showed he’d been crying were gone, replaced with a thick layer of dark powder under his eyes. Patton will call him out for dinner soon, and he can’t deal with anyone asking why he’s been crying. Better to pretend it never happened.

As if summoned by Virgil’s thoughts, there’s a knock at his door. “Virgil!” Patton calls through the wood. “Dinner’s ready!”

“Coming, Pat!” Virgil replies, setting his makeup brush down on the counter. He gives himself a quick once-over, checking that his hoodie covers the bandages on his arms, and heads out to the common area.

Logan is already there, sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in front of him and a thick book in his hand. He looks up as Virgil enters, giving him a nod by way of greeting.

“‘Sup, Teach?” Virgil asks, opening the cabinet above the stove to get a clean glass. He always tries to drink water after he had a panic attack; they may not be physical beings, but they could still get sick, and Virgil knew from experience that dehydration was a _bitch._

“Not much,” Logan replies. “I have been reading up on egoism in case Deceit attempts another scenario like today. How are you?”

“Fine.” Virgil sits down at the table as Patton returns, Roman on his heels.

Now, Virgil isn’t a mind reader, and his powers certainly aren’t as strong as Deceit’s, but he can feel it when someone is particularly anxious, and Roman has nerves coming off of him in waves. This isn’t new for Roman; Virgil has been noticing a lot of fear surrounding Roman for months. But Virgil is definitely starting to get worried, especially with how thin Roman has been looking lately. As Roman sits down, Virgil nudges Roman’s leg with his foot and gives him a small smile, which he hopes comes across as encouraging.

“It smells delicious, Padre,” Roman says, voice shaking ever so slightly.

Patton, ever the parental figure, cuts four large slices of lasagna and plops one onto each of their plates. Virgil tries not to stare as Roman eyes the piece in front of him. It isn’t that much food, really… so why is Roman staring at it like he thinks it’s going to bite him?

Patton sees it too. “Something wrong, Ro?” he asks, pausing with a forkful of lasagna halfway to his own mouth.

Roman shakes his head. “Sorry, I was just… thinking.” He picks up his fork and begins methodically cutting the lasagna into smaller pieces, spreading them out around his plate. Virgil watches carefully, trying to count how many bites he actually takes, but after a moment, Roman’s head shoots up and he glares at Virgil harshly.

“What do you want, Brad Pittiful?” he snaps.

Virgil looks back at his own plate, flushing red. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“Roman, be nice,” Patton chides.

“...Sorry,” Roman mutters, looking anywhere but at the others.

In the end, Roman manages to finish about half of his lasagna before he stands up from the table and announces that he’s going to go get ready for movie night.

“You’re done already?” Patton asks. “But you love lasagna.”

Roman shrugs. “I had a big lunch, Pat. Sorry. Can you put the rest in the fridge for later?”

“Okay, kiddo. But hurry back; I’ve got thumbprint cookies with Crofter’s in the oven. And no,” Patton adds, seeing the eager gleam in Logan’s eye, “you can’t steal them _all_ , Logan.”

Roman nods before disappearing up the stairs.

Patton picks up Roman’s abandoned plate and sighs. “I don’t get it,” he mutters. “Lasagna is one of his favorites.”

“Additionally, I don’t recall seeing him come down for lunch today. If I remember correctly, he was helping Thomas make last-minute changes to the script during lunch,” Logan adds. “I don’t know why he would lie about that, though.”

Virgil stares up the staircase at the spot where Roman had disappeared, a pit of dread churning in his gut.

* * *

While Logan clears the table and Patton pipes Crofter’s onto the cookies -- one advantage of being imaginary is that nothing needs time to cool -- Virgil and Roman are in charge of constructing the pillow fort for that night’s movie. Virgil pulls the blankets and pillows they use out of the closet under the stairs and tries to get started on his own, but it’s really Roman who always keeps the entire thing from collapsing in on itself. Virgil’s job is mostly to make the inside cozy. Sighing, Virgil gets to his feet and starts up the stairs to check on Roman.

“Princey?” he calls, knocking on Roman’s bedroom door. He could have just risen up directly into Roman’s room, but Virgil of all people understands how important it is to respect others’ privacy. “You gonna come help set up or what?”

Virgil can feel Roman’s rush of fear even through the door. “Just a minute!” he yells, followed by a rapid shuffling, as though Roman is trying to hide something.

After a moment, the door opens to reveal a disheveled Roman, panting rather heavily. “Yes?”

The wave of anxiety hits Virgil like a truck, and it’s all he can do to avoid recoiling as it washes over him. He’s used to _exuding_ that anxiety, not sensing it in someone else. “Dude, you’re like three seconds away from a panic attack, what the fuck?” he asks.

Roman’s eyes widen. “I don’t know what you mean, J.Delightful,” he says, voice trembling. “I’m fine.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “I’m literally Anxiety, Roman. I can tell when someone is freaking out, and you’re about to lose it. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing! I’ll be down in a minute.” And with that, he slams the door in Virgil’s face, the lock clicking loudly as it slides into place.

“Roman!” Virgil yells, concern mounting with every second. “Open this door or I’m coming in there, one way or another!”

“I said, give me a minute!” Roman calls back, but Virgil is done waiting. He sinks down and, within seconds, reappears on the other side of the door, in what looks like the aftermath of a hurricane.

Clothes, books, and art supplies are strewn haphazardly across the floor. Several picture frames have fallen off the walls and shattered, and it looks like Roman put his fist through a couple of canvases. There’s a heavy layer of air freshener throughout the room, but underneath it, Virgil can still smell the sour stench of vomit. Worst of all, though, is the small razor blade lying on the floor between the two sides, a few spots of blood marring its silver sheen. Roman himself is jerking his sleeve down, glaring at Virgil as he appears.

“Get out!” Roman shouts. “I said I’d be there in a minute!”

But Virgil isn’t paying attention to him. He’s staring at the blade, lying innocently next to Roman’s onesie, as though Virgil couldn’t tell what it had just been used for.

“Princey-” he starts, but Roman cuts him off.

“Leave me alone!”

Virgil can only stare at him, heartbroken. He knows how it feels to be where Roman is -- hell, he _is_ where Roman is, more or less -- and though they don’t always get along, Virgil would never have wished this fate onto him.

“Roman,” he says slowly, “let me see your arm.”

Roman stills. “That’s none of your business.”

“I’m making it my business,” Virgil snaps, concern overriding his ability to be comforting. “Arm, Princey. Now.”

Roman sighs and holds out his arm, which Virgil can already see is leaking blood onto his white sleeve. Carefully, Virgil steps through the mess and leads Roman to the bed, so they can sit down. Then, as gently as he can, he rolls up Roman’s sleeve to assess the damage he’s done.

It isn’t that bad, truth be told. Of course, any level of self-harm is deeply troubling, but at least none of Roman’s wounds need stitches. Virgil doesn’t even know how to begin going about suturing a wound closed, and he knows Roman would rather die than have Logan find out about this. Breathing a small sigh, Virgil conjures a clean black cloth and presses it to Roman’s arm.

“Hold this,” Virgil says, getting to his feet. He makes his way to the bathroom to get the first aid kit he knows he’ll find there -- all the sides have first aid kits in their bathrooms; no one knows why.

By the time he gets back to Roman’s bed, first aid kit in hand, Roman is crying, wiping furiously at the tears as they streak down his cheeks, one hand still holding the cloth to his injured arm.

“Hey, hey,” Virgil says softly. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

Roman scoffs through his tears. “Yeah, right.”

“Roman, look at me.” Virgil’s voice is firm, and he waits until Roman’s eyes are locked onto his before continuing. “I’m not mad at you, okay? I’m just worried. We’re gonna work this out. You’re not alone in this.”

“...Please don’t tell the others,” Roman begs.

Virgil purses his lips as he pulls back the black cloth and sprays disinfectant onto Roman’s arm. “I think it would be good for you to talk about this.” _God, he’s a hypocrite._

“I can’t! It would crush Patton if he knew, Virgil. It would _crush_ him.”

Virgil doesn’t say anything, pressing a gauze pad to Roman’s arm and wrapping it in a cloth bandage.

“And besides,” Roman goes on, “it’s not like Logan would be any help. He’d just tell me to quit being so emotional,” he says derisively.

“Still,” Virgil replies, pulling Roman’s sleeve down. “It’s not good for you to keep this shit bottled up.”

Roman snorts. “Oh, right, because _you’re_ so much better.”

“This isn’t about me, Princey, this is about you. Look, if you really don’t want me to tell the others, I’ll keep my mouth shut, but I think you should talk to them. You can put on your onesie and come downstairs and play pretend if you really want to, but I don’t think they’d be as judgemental as you’re thinking they would, and this shit will kill you if you don’t find a better way to let it out.”

Virgil gets to his feet and makes for the door, and Roman lets him go without a word.

“I’m keeping this, by the way,” Virgil adds over his shoulder, pocketing the razor blade on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's true, by the way; dehydration is a bitch. I've hit moderate dehydration a few times myself, and it never fails to make me feel like a raging dumpster fire.


	6. Movie Night

Virgil leans against Roman’s door and sighs. _Fucking hell,_ he’s a hypocrite. What right does he have to tell Roman to seek help when he left the dark sides because Deceit tried to force him to do the exact same thing?

_Roman isn’t me, though,_ he thinks. _He doesn’t deserve this. He may be a shithead, but he doesn’t deserve this._

He should tell Patton.

… 

He can’t tell Patton.

Roman is right; it would _crush_ Patton to know Roman is hurting himself, and besides, if he did that without Roman’s permission, he’d be no better than Deceit.

Patton is waiting at the bottom of the stairs when he comes back down. “Is Roman coming?” he asks, worriedly.

Virgil shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe. He’s in kind of a bad mood right now.”

Patton visibly deflates, like an air dancer whose fan has been turned off. “Oh.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Virgil says quickly. “He’ll come down. He knows how much you like having everyone at these things.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Roman appears at the top of the stairs, wearing his Beauty and the Beast onesie and looking decidedly more composed than he had when Virgil had last seen him. He doesn’t say anything or even make eye contact with Virgil; instead, he marches directly to the pile of blankets and pillows on the floor and begins setting up the fort.

“Roman!” Patton cries, immediately tackling Roman in a hug. “You came!”

Roman grunts as Patton crashes into him, stumbling back into the wall. “Of course I did, Padre,” he says, sounding slightly breathless. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Logan appears from the kitchen, holding a plate of Crofter’s cookies in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. “Have we decided what film we are watching?” he asks.

“Not yet,” Patton replies. “Roman, it’s your turn to pick”

Roman pauses, thoughtful. “Whatever you want is fine,” he says finally.

“Disney?”

“Yes, please.”

Patton thinks for a moment before he conjures a DVD of _The Lion King_ and holds it out to Roman. “How about an old favorite for tonight?”

“Sure.”

Soon enough, they’re all settled against each other in the pillow fort, watching as Simba learns the ways of the Hakuna Matata lifestyle. Roman still has waves of anxiety coming off of him, but he hasn’t turned to look at Virgil once, even though Virgil can almost hear him thinking, _What if he tells the others?_

But Virgil won’t do that. He can’t do that, or he’d be just as bad as Deceit. Virgil may be a piece of shit, but he has _standards._ He won’t cross that line.

Not that he can explain that to Roman without revealing to Roman that he knows _exactly_ what he’s going through. He may have been accepted by the light sides, but he’s not about to trust them with _this._

By the end of the movie, Patton is slumped against Roman, nearly asleep on a slowly blinking Roman’s shoulder. Even Virgil is yawning, even though he knows he won’t be going to sleep for a while.

“Well,” Logan says, climbing to his feet, “I am going to bed. I would advise all of you to do the same, as it’s important to maintain your circadian rhythms. Do you need any help cleaning up?”

“Nah, Teach, we’ve got it,” Virgil replies.

“Very well. Goodnight, then.” Logan grabs a Crofter’s cookie from the plate and disappears up the stairs.

Roman looks down at Patton, who doesn’t seem to have any interest in moving. “A little help, Virgil?” he asks.

Virgil gets to his feet and reaches down, pulling Patton into a sitting position. “Come on, Pat, bedtime.”

“...Think ‘m supposed to make _you_ go to bed,” Patton mumbles.

“I will. But first we’ve gotta get upstairs, okay?” He kneels down next to Roman and wraps one of Patton’s arms around his shoulder as Roman does the same on his other side. Together, they haul him to his feet, Roman staggering a little under Patton’s weight.

“You good?” Virgil asks, watching as Roman regains his footing.

“Fine,” Roman snaps. “Let’s just get him upstairs.”

Walking upstairs with a nearly unconscious Patton between them is a slow process, made even slower by the fact that Roman seems to be completely out of energy, but eventually they make it to Patton’s room and ease him onto his bed. Immediately, Patton curls up on the mattress, hugging a stuffed frog to his chest, and Virgil pulls the blankets over him.

“Goodnight, Pat,” Roman mutters, planting a soft, familial kiss on Patton’s forehead.

Patton mumbles something unintelligible in reply as they make their way out of the room.

Together, Roman and Virgil head back downstairs to clean up the living room. Normally, Patton insists on staying up to clean; he must have been truly exhausted from the courtroom. They work in silence for a few minutes: Roman putting the pillows and blankets away, and Virgil putting the Crofter’s cookies into a tupperware container to keep them from going stale.

“Thanks,” Roman says softly, breaking the long silence. Virgil blinks; for a moment, he isn’t sure he heard Princey at all, but then Roman continues. “For not telling.”

Virgil nods. “I meant it, though. You can’t keep that shit bottled up, and that’s not a healthy way to let it out. Talk to them. They love you, and they’ll want to help. I mean, not that I don’t want to help,” he adds quickly. “Just… We love you, Roman. And you don’t deserve to go through this alone.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Virgil nods.

“Why are you helping me? I didn’t think you cared about me one way or the other.”

Virgil shrugs. “Look, you can be an asshole sometimes. I can, too. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to feel like this. I don’t know everything that’s going on with you, or how you got to this point in the first place, but it doesn’t have to stay like this. If you won’t talk to the others, know you can talk to me.”

Roman smiles weakly. “Thanks, Virgil.”

“No problem. Night,” he says, heading up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's all I have so far! I thought of this idea a few days ago, so all of this is pretty unedited. I hope you liked it! As always, any and all feedback is very much appreciated.
> 
> By the way: air dancers are those wavy balloon guys you see outside of car dealerships. Don't worry; I had to look up the name, too.


	7. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update schedule whomst? I'm mostly just posting these as I finish them/as the friend who agreed to beta read this fic signs off on them. Still, I'll try to keep things fairly regular.
> 
> Trigger warning in this chapter for some... graphic thoughts, courtesy of Remus.

Remus doesn’t usually sleep.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, or that he doesn’t need to -- all of the sides need rest, just as much as Thomas does -- it’s that he _can’t._ He’s _literally_ the embodiment of intrusive thoughts; he can’t make his brain shut up long enough to go to sleep. He asks Remy to knock him out sometimes, but… Remus knows he’s annoying, and he doesn’t like to bother people more than he has to. (Why Janus actually agreed to date him is as much of a mystery to Remus as it is to anyone else.)

Which is why waking up is so disorienting for him.

Well, okay, it’s partially that, and partially his nightmares.

You see, Remus’ brain, like all brains, uses the time when he’s asleep to try to sort through things that happened while he was awake. The problem is that Remus has intrusive thoughts _constantly,_ because that’s what he _is,_ so his dreams tend to be really fucked up. It’s not so bad when he’s awake, but if he’s dreaming, he’s not in control.

He likes control. He _needs_ control.

So, when Remus wakes up in Janus’ bed, he still expects to be covered in dog shit and holding his intestines in with his hands while being chased by a knife-wielding clown dressed like Little Bo Peep. Instead, he’s lying on Janus’ bed while his boyfriend tends to his small army of potted plants.

_What if one of his plants turned out to be Audrey II from_ Little Shop of Horrors _and swallowed you whole like a snake?_

“Good morning,” Janus says as Remus sits up.

“How long was I out?”

“Only a day. You’re a good actor, but it had been a week since you slept, so I asked Remy to let you take a nap.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course. You needed it.”

_Janus is a snake; what if_ he _swallowed you whole?_

“Did you already tell me how it went with Thomas, and I just forgot, or did I fall asleep before you could tell me?”

“You fell asleep.” Janus sits down on the bed, and Remus laces their fingers together. “I... didn’t get Thomas to admit he wanted to go to the callback, but they didn’t decide to go to the wedding anyway. It’s a good idea, but they listened to me, as usual.” Janus huffs in frustration; he only speaks in opposites when he’s upset.

“Aww, Jan. I’m sorry.” Remus wraps his arms around Janus -- the two he has out, anyway -- and rubs circles into his back. “Do you want me to kill them?”

_Gut them first. Cook their internal organs and make them eat them._

For once, one of his intrusive thoughts actually sounds like a good idea. No punishment is too harsh for hurting his favorite danger noodle. Besides, it’s not like anything he did to them would be permanent. Sides can heal themselves of anything that isn’t self-inflicted. (Remus doesn’t know why those wounds are different, but they are. He knows. He’s tried.)

“Yes, that would help,” Janus disagrees, pulling back. “I just… I didn’t think I got through to them this time, you know? It didn’t seem like they might actually be listening. Your brother wasn’t on my side, actually, and even Logan disagreed, but Patton and Virgil…”

“How is he?” Remus asks, hesitantly. He knows Janus doesn’t like to talk about Virgil, even though they both miss him. Sometimes it feels like Remus lost a lung when Virgil left -- and he was already down to one, since Roman has the other. He doesn’t know how he’s breathing anymore.

“He isn’t still hurting himself. All of the light sides know about it, and he’s speaking to me. I just… I don’t wish I could help him.”

“I know, Jan. Me too.”

“Sometimes, I don’t wonder if I should tell them. Morality wouldn’t listen to me, especially if it weren’t about Virgil, and Virgil doesn’t already hate me, so it would make our relationship much worse.”

That’s when Remus gets an idea. A _good_ idea this time.

“What if… they figured it out on their own?”

“What don’t you mean?”

“I mean, what if we didn’t _have_ to tell them? Like, what if we set it up so they’d figure it out on their own? That way, we wouldn’t technically be telling them, and Virgil wouldn’t have any more reason to be mad at you.”

“I know… It doesn’t seem risky.”

“Look, Janus. I know he’s going to come around eventually. You were just trying to help. Maybe if he gets better, he’ll see that.

Janus considers this. “Who shouldn’t we tell?”

“You mean who _shouldn’t_ we tell,” Remus corrects.

Janus giggles, his voice finally going back to normal. “Right. So, who? Morality?”

Remus thinks. “I have a better idea…”

* * *

It’s a simple plan, but elegant. If Remus had had his way, he probably would have just stolen Virgil’s jacket and then dragged him into Roman’s room. (His brother is so obvious about his affections, it’s a wonder Virgil hasn’t already noticed. Though most people don’t think of name-calling as flirting...) But Janus thought a more subtle approach would be better.

First, they’re going to get Roman to take Virgil on a date to the Imagination. It’ll be good for both of them, because Roman can finally stop pining and Virgil won’t feel so alone. Once they’re there, Remus will sneak over from his side of the Imagination and force Virgil into a situation where he has to take his jacket off. He hasn’t decided whether he wants it to rain blood or if he just wants to set Virgil’s sleeve on fire, but before that actually starts to matter, he needs to get Roman to take Virgil there first.

Hence, the reason he’s standing outside Roman’s door, trying to convince himself to knock.

Roman hates him. He knows Roman hates him, but he’s trying to _help_ this time. That should make a difference, right?

Maybe he should have just barged in; it wouldn’t have given him time to overthink like this.

Without warning, the door in front of him swings open, revealing a very surprised Roman. “Remus?” he asks. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I just love showing up where I’m not invited,” Remus replies, pasting a crazed grin onto his face.

Roman frowns. “Well, can you move? I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you. It’s about that crush you have on-”

Roman clamps a hand over Remus’ mouth. Remus licks it.

“Eugh!” Roman shrieks, pulling his hand away and wiping it on his shirt. “Gross!”

“Gross is my middle name,” Remus says, his smile a little more genuine now.

“Just come in.” Roman grabs Remus by the sleeve and pulls him through the door into Roman’s room, closing it firmly behind them. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh, come _on,_ brother dear. It’s not like you’re exactly subtle about it.”

Roman turns white. “Do you think he knows?”

Remus shrugs. “Doubt it. That boy’s dumber than a box of rocks, especially when it comes to someone liking him. I had a crush on him for _months_ and he never noticed.”

“Wait, _what?!_ ”

Remus laughs. “Oh, relax, Red-Letter Day. I’m not trying to steal your man. It was a long time ago, and anyway, I’m with Dee now.”

Roman’s shoulders relax, but only slightly. “So, what did you want?”

“I was going to tell you you should ask him out. Take him to the Imagination, and show him that little village you have with all the weird, _nice_ people in it. He’ll love that.”

“...Why are you helping me?”

“What? Can’t I just help my brother out of the kindness of my heart?”

Roman crosses his arms, looking at Remus with his eyebrow raised.

“Okay, _fine._ I’m going to play a trick on Logan and I need Virgil out of the way so he doesn’t give up the game.” This isn’t technically a lie; Remus _was_ thinking about playing a trick on Logan. He’s fun to mess with. ~~And he’s also kind of cute when he’s flustered.~~

“What kind of trick?”

“Oh, you know. Eyeballs in his coffee, fingernails in his jam, that sort of thing. I haven’t decided yet.”

“You leave Crofter’s out of this,” Roman threatens, pointing an angry finger at Remus’ chest.

“Okay, sure, whatever. So you’ll do it?”

“I mean… How do I even know he’ll say yes?”

Now it was Remus’ turn to raise his eyebrows. “Are you shitting me?”

“...No?”

“Just ask him. Don’t make it sound like a date if you’re that worried, I don’t care. I just need him out of my way. We good?”

Remus holds out his hand, and after a moment, Roman shakes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Logan and Patton. You'll get an update on them in a couple of chapters. We have some shenanigans to get through first...


	8. The Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Roman take a tour of the Imagination, and Remus learns something about his brother.

“Hey, Virgil, you busy?” Roman asks, poking his head through Virgil’s doorway.

Virgil looks up from his computer. “Not really, I’m on tumblr. Why?”

“I’m going to the Imagination and I thought you might wanna come. It’s pretty cool, actually -- or, well, my side is. I’ve got this little village and there’s a baker there, Claudia, who makes the  _ best _ croissants. Want to check it out?”

Virgil thinks for a second. “This isn’t a trap, is it?”

Roman gasps, putting a hand on his chest in a mock-affronted gesture. “Of course not! I would never!”

“Be serious, Princey.”

“Okay, no, it’s not a trap. Cross my heart and hope to die. Okay?”

Virgil frowns at his choice of words, but closes his laptop anyway. “Yeah, alright.”

“Excellent.” Roman leads him down the hall and into his room, through the still-untamed tornado of clothes and canvases that litters his floor, to a door against the far wall. “Welcome…” Roman says dramatically, flinging the door open, “...to the Imagination!”

Virgil gasps. Just beyond the door lies a lush green landscape, with rolling hills dotted with towering green trees. In the distance, he can see a cluster of buildings that he thinks must be Roman’s town.

“I can get us a ride if you want,” Roman says, walking backwards through the door with his arms spread wide, “or we can just walk. Do you know how to ride a horse?”

Virgil shakes his head, following him through. “I’d… rather walk, if that’s okay.”

Roman nods, and they set off. Virgil looks back at the door and sees that it stands alone in the field, the hills rolling beyond it until grass becomes sand and sand becomes water.

Unbeknownst to the two, Remus follows from a short distance, watching them from under an invisibility cloak. He doesn’t like to come over to his brother’s side of the Imagination if he can avoid it, but Virgil is too important for him to worry about that. Besides, he kind of likes conjuring invisibility cloaks and sneaking around. It makes him feel like a sorcerer. Or a dangerous traveler with a mysterious past.

After some thought -- and a lot of bouncing ideas off of Janus -- Remus decided his best bet would be to send a heat wave into Roman’s village. Virgil was bound to get uncomfortable enough to roll up his sleeves, and this way, Remus wouldn’t technically be responsible. It was perfect. So, with a flick of his wrist, he starts raising the temperature as he walks behind them.

It doesn’t take long before they start to notice.

“Hot out here,” Virgil says, waving the sides of his unzipped hoodie to create a small breeze. “Is it always like this?”

Roman tugs at his collar. “Not normally. It’ll be cooler in the village.”

They walk for a little longer, before Roman speaks.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but it’s  _ really _ hot out here, and you already know, so… Is it okay with you if I roll up my sleeves?”

Remus blinks at that, confused. Why would  _ Roman _ be asking for permission to roll up his sleeves? Virgil is the one with the self harm problem… right?

“I… yeah, sure, go ahead,” Virgil replies. And Remus wants to be sick.

Because Roman’s wrists are covered in cuts and scars, too. And Remus has seen his fair share of self-inflicted wounds, between Janus and himself, but somehow, seeing them on his brother is… worse. Roman is supposed to be  _ better _ than him. He’s not supposed to resort to this; that’s Remus’ job.

Belatedly, he realizes how thin Roman looks next to Virgil, who has never exactly been on the chubby side.

He’s a terrible brother.

He flicks his wrist again to bring the temperature back down, and he turns and leaves without a word.

* * *

“Remus? How did it go?”

Janus is sitting on the common room couch, sewing something, when Remus gets back, but he doesn’t stop to say hi. Instead, he storms down the hall and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t hesitate, immediately walking to the nearest open expanse of wall and bashing his head into it. Once, twice, over and over, until he loses count.

“Hey, hey,” Janus says soothingly. Remus didn’t notice him come in. “None of that. Come on, love, sit down. Let’s talk about this.”

Blood trickles into Remus’ eye. Janus wipes it away with a dark cloth, pressing it to Remus’ forehead to stop the bleeding. “What happened?” he asks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Remus sits quietly while Janus holds a cloth to his forehead with one hand, rubbing soothing circles into the back of Remus’ hand with the other. “He’s hurting.”

“Who is? Virgil?”

Remus shakes his head, and Janus moves with him, keeping the cloth in place. “Roman.”

Janus goes quiet. “I’m sorry, Remus.”

“Did…” Remus takes a deep, shaky breath. “Did you know?”

“...No,” Janus says finally, his words turning backwards again. No matter. Remus still understands him. “But I’ve known for long, and I wasn’t trying to figure out how to tell you, I promise. He didn’t start recently.”

“Did you know he wasn’t eating?”

Janus doesn’t speak, and that’s all the answer Remus needs.

“How long?” His voice is raw.

“...Not a few months. It didn’t start small. I didn’t hope… I didn’t hope he would get better on his own.”

“But he didn’t.”

“I don’t know, and I’m not sorry, Remus. I shouldn’t have told you. I just… Things didn’t go so wrong, when I didn’t tell you about Virgil, and I wasn’t scared of it happening again. Roman didn’t seem to like me more than the others, and I wasn’t scared of what might happen.”

“You should have told me,” Remus says, but there’s no bite to his words. He’s exhausted and in pain, both physical and emotional, even though he was just asleep for a full day.

“I don’t know. Aren’t you… mad?”

“No. I’m just… worried. About him. And Virgil. I mean, Virgil knows about Roman, at least, but I don’t think Roman knows about Virgil.”

Janus takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure so he can speak normally. “What makes you say that?”

“Roman rolled up his sleeves in front of Virgil. Also, he said Virgil already knew when he was asking if it was okay, but Virgil didn’t do the same. And it was really fucking hot, so I know he wanted to.”

Janus nods, conjuring a bandage for Remus’ forehead. “Well, that’s a start. We can try again, or we can hope that Virgil opens up to Roman as they get closer. It’s up to you.”

“...Can you get Remy? I don’t want to be awake right now.”

Janus kisses Remus on the cheek. “Of course, love. I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later, Remus is fast asleep, tucked lovingly under a handmade quilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got two more Prinxiety-centric chapters, and then we'll check in with Logan and Patton. I swear I haven't forgotten about them.
> 
> I do hope Janus' reverse speech isn't too confusing.


	9. Confrontation

“Remus, what the fuck?!”

Remus jerks awake, coming face to face with his very angry twin brother, trailed by a worried-looking Janus.

“I didn’t do it!” he cries instinctively.

“Oh, yes, you did. You tricked me into taking Virgil to the Imagination and then you tried to sabotage it! I _know_ the Imagination doesn’t get that hot unless one of us wills it, and _I_ certainly didn’t. It was you!”

Remus looks over Roman’s shoulder at Janus, who frowns apologetically. “I’m not sorry, love, I didn’t tell him you were sleeping but he listened…”

“It’s fine, Dee-Dee, don’t worry about it-” Remus starts to reply, but Roman cuts him off.

“What the hell are you playing at?! Are you just _trying_ to make me miserable?”

“That is literally the exact _opposite_ of what I want!”

Roman scoffs. “Then why would you tell me to take Virgil on something that _could have_ turned into a date only to try to sabotage it?!”

“I wasn’t _trying_ to sabotage it, I was _trying_ to get Virgil to take his jacket off, but you did instead and then I came back here to smash my head into a wall because I _didn’t fucking notice!_ ” Remus snaps. He can see Janus fretting from the corner of his eye, but he can’t bring himself to pay attention right now. “I know I don’t have any room to talk, but what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” He grabs Roman’s arm and jerks up his sleeve, gesturing angrily to the scabbed-over cuts there. “You look like a fucking skeleton! Did you just think no one would care?! Because guess what, asshole! I CARE!”

Roman is frozen to the spot. He doesn’t even try to rip his arm from Remus’ grip. There’s just… too much information, all at once. When he finally speaks, after a long, painful silence, his voice is almost a whisper. “...You care about me?” he asks.

Remus takes a deep breath, and pulls Roman’s sleeve back down before dropping his hand. “Of course I care about you, dipshit. You’re my brother. You’re an asshole, but guess what? So am I. And you’re _my_ asshole.” Remus doesn’t even _want_ to make a joke about that right now. “No one gets to make you miserable but me, and that includes you. So go talk to your crush or your friends or whatever you need to do, just _cut the bullshit._ ”

Without another word, Roman turns and walks out, closing Remus’ door behind him.

* * *

Roman walks slowly out of the dark side, up the stairs to the light sides’ common area. He doesn’t notice when Patton tries to talk to him. He doesn’t notice when he passes Logan on the stairs. He just walks back to his room, dazed, trying to process what just happened.

Remus knows. And by extension, Deceit knows. He tries not to let that bother him, but it does. He doesn’t want that snake knowing anything about him. But more importantly, Remus _cares._ He knows, and he cares. He wants Roman to stop. He wants Roman to get better. Roman didn’t know Remus was capable of caring about things, except for Deceit.

It’s not until he’s pacing back and forth across his bedroom, twirling a paintbrush idly between his fingers, that he remembers something else Remus said.

_“I was_ trying _to get Virgil to take his jacket off, but you did instead!”_

A knot of dread forms in Roman’s gut. If he’s right about this… God, and Virgil took his razor yesterday, too. What if he used it on himself? How long has this been going on? How long has Roman been too self-obsessed to realize the boy he ~~loves~~ likes is hurting that badly?

He doesn’t even drop the paintbrush in his rush. The next thing he knows, he’s standing in front of Virgil’s door, hammering frantically against the wood.

“Jesus, Princey, what’s got your panties in a twist?” Virgil asks, opening the door.

Roman pushes past him into the room. The door _whooshes_ closed behind him. “Take off your jacket.”

“ _What?_ ”

Roman whirls around to face him. “Take off your jacket. I need to see your arms.”

Virgil crosses his arms defensively. “What the fuck, no. Why?”

“I need to know if you’re… Remus said something, when I went to yell at him for fucking with us in the Imagination. I just… I need to know, Virgil.”

“Wait, wait, back up. Remus was the one who was causing the heat?”

“Apparently he was messing with the temperature because he wanted to get you to take your jacket off, but I rolled up my sleeves instead and he freaked out and left. Why was he trying to get you to take your jacket off, Virgil? Please tell me I’m wrong.”

Virgil looks at the floor, shoulders curling inwards, and doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, God, Virgil…” Roman sits heavily on Virgil’s bed, the paintbrush falling from his fingertips. He doesn’t notice. “I didn’t want to believe it, I wanted to think you were better than me, but you, too… God, I am so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Virgil mumbles.

“It is, though!” Just as quickly as he sat down, Roman stands up again. “How many times did I insult you because I don’t know how to flirt?! How many times did the things I said make you hurt yourself?!”

“Wait, you don’t know how to _flirt?_ ”

Roman freezes. Of course Virgil latched onto the one thing he’d hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Princey, do you… do you like me?”

Roman wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole. His face is burning, and he’s sure it’s got to be as red as his sash by now. “I- I-” he stutters, unable to speak. His lungs are burning. Why are his lungs burning?

“Whoa, hey, Roman, breathe. You’ve been in here too long, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” Gently, Virgil grasps Roman’s hand and leads him to the door.

Stepping into the hallway is like a breath of fresh air. Roman didn’t realize how worked up he was until he was out of Virgil’s room, but now… he’s just embarrassed.

“I… didn’t exactly want you to find out this way,” he says after a long moment. “If you want, we can just pretend I never said anything, it’s fine. I get it if you don’t feel the same way.”

“Hey, hey, Princey, no.” Virgil puts a gentle hand on Roman’s cheek, the other still holding Roman’s own hand in his. “I don’t want to pretend you didn’t say anything. I… I actually like you, too.” A blush creeps up Virgil’s cheeks, his pale foundation doing nothing to hide it, and Roman wants to kiss his face off, it’s so cute.

“Do you mean that?” Roman asks, so quiet he almost can’t hear himself.  
“I wouldn’t lie about this, Ro. I like you. A lot. And I’m probably going to have a panic attack over this later, but I don’t care, because right now, you’re more important. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

Without either one of them noticing, their heads are slowly moving closer together, drawn like magnets. Roman can feel Virgil’s breath on his cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. And as soon as Virgil nods, he leans forward, closing the gap between them. Their lips press together, and Roman swears he sees fireworks behind his eyes.

Suddenly, a loud squeal erupts from behind them, and they jump, breaking apart.

“Sorry to interrupt, but oh my goodness, you two are so cute!!” Patton cries. “I was coming up here to check on you, Ro, but I guess you’re doing okay. I’ll be downstairs if you two lovebirds need anything!”

Okay, _now_ Roman wants the floor to swallow him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consent is very sexy, kids.
> 
> They are Disaster Gays™ but they are actually going to talk about Virgil's self harm, I swear. Roman isn't gonna just forget about that.
> 
> I might be projecting a bit with the whole "immediately distracted" thing... It's like when you're playing Minecraft and you're in a cave system, and you see a side tunnel branching off of the main tunnel, and you think "oh I'll just check that out and get back to the main path in a minute" but you keep finding side tunnels and you keep exploring them until you're thirty layers deep and can't even remember what you were doing in the first place. That's it, that's my life. (I legit got snapped out of a suicidal funk once because one of my favorite bands released an album earlier than expected and my brain went "ooh distraction!")


	10. Logy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is technically Friday now, so I think I'm going to update this fic on Mondays and Fridays. If I don't set up some kind of schedule, my impulsive ass will post all of the chapters I have written at once.

Patton is kneading what will soon be a pie crust when Roman walks into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, kiddo, how are you?” Patton asks, glancing up from his work. But Roman isn’t looking at him. Actually, Roman doesn’t seem to have noticed him at all.

Concerned, Patton dusts his hands on his apron and walks over to Roman, who is walking through the kitchen in a daze.

“Roman? Kiddo?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

Roman waves a hand vaguely, making what Patton thinks is supposed to be a shooing motion.  _ Leave me alone, _ he seems to be saying.  _ You’re bothering me, _ Patton’s brain adds, even though he knows Roman would never say that to him.

“Oh… Okay. I’ll come check on you in a bit, okay, Ro?”

Roman walks out of the kitchen. A moment later, Logan appears in the spot Roman just left, and Patton immediately pastes a smile onto his face.

“Hello, Patton. Is Roman okay?” Logan asks. “I passed him on the stairs, but he didn’t acknowledge me when I tried to greet him. In fact, he didn’t seem aware of my presence at all.”

Patton shrugs, going back to his crust. “I don’t know, Logy. I think he wants to be alone right now. I’ll go check on him in a bit.” He gives the dough on the counter a mighty  _ smack, _ trying to channel his hurt emotions into it. It doesn’t help. “How are you?”

“I am well, thank you, Patton. I am just taking a break to get some more coffee. How about yourself?”

“Oh, you know me,” Patton says cheerily. “I’m just dandy! Say, I’ve been trying to decide what to make for dinner. What are you in the mood for, kiddo?”

Logan hums as he puts on a fresh pot of coffee. “I think something with a lot of protein would be good. Roman has been looking rather ill as of late, and I’d hate to think what would happen to Thomas if he got sick. Furthermore, I am… concerned. About him.”

Patton sighs. “Yeah, me too, kiddo.”

Logan straightens his tie, clearing his throat pointedly. “Given that, I would recommend that you make some form of meat, perhaps with mashed potatoes and salad as side dishes. That way, he’ll be sure to get some nutrients or calories, at least.”

“Good idea, Logy! Say, do you want to stick around and help your old man whip that up?”

“Apologies, Patton, but I must be getting back to work. I shall see you at dinner.” He pours his coffee into his mug and leaves quickly. Patton tries not to feel like Logan is avoiding him.

He picks up his rolling pin and begins rolling the dough into a large disk, pressing a bit harder than he needs to. In the meantime, he lets his thoughts wander. What could be wrong with Roman? Did he not feel like he could come to Patton with his problems?

Has he been a bad father figure?

It’s with a start that Patton realizes he’s rolled the dough so thin it’s nearly translucent. That’s no good for a pie crust. Frustrated, he gathers it into a lump and throws it onto the counter with a huff.

He should go check on Roman. Maybe he just didn’t want to interrupt Patton in the middle of baking. That’s all.

That’s definitely all.

Patton washes his hands thoroughly in the sink, in case this discussion takes a while or Roman needs a hug -- he wouldn’t want to get flour on Roman’s clothing. Then, once he’s clean, he heads up the stairs.

But it looks like someone else already beat him to comforting Roman. Because there stands Virgil, his hand on Roman’s cheek, pressing their lips together.

Patton can’t suppress the squeal that bursts out of him, but he regrets it immediately when they jump apart, both red as tomatoes.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Patton says quickly, “but oh my goodness, you two are so cute!! I was coming up here to check on you, Ro, but I guess you’re doing okay. I’ll be downstairs if you two lovebirds need anything!”

He hopes they don’t notice how quickly he turns tail and runs back to the kitchen.

It’s not that he’s not happy for them. He is! Virgil and Roman are  _ adorable _ together! He wants to be happy for them, and he is! It’s just… Seeing them so close together, while undeniably sweet, reminded Patton of the gaping hole in his chest. It never goes away, but sometimes, he can do things, like baking  ~~ or cutting ~~ , that let him forget about it for a while.

And then there are things that happen where the hole seems to grow ever wider.

Patton wraps the lump of dough in cling wrap and puts it in the fridge. He’ll get back to making the pie later.

* * *

Logan slumps against the door as soon as he closes it behind him, coffee still in hand.  _ Fuck, _ he’s being emotional again.

And yet…

He wonders if Patton knows the meaning of the word he used. He doubts it, but there’s a first time for everything. Maybe that was Patton’s subtle way of telling Logan he needs to work harder. Calling him a word that means sluggish is a bit more underhanded than Patton’s usual approach, but Logan knows his work has been lackluster. He’s just… He’s so out of sorts over the courtroom issue, and no matter what he does, he can’t seem to get it out of his mind. He’s certainly tried, as his legs could figuratively tell anyone who managed to see Logan without his pants on.

Perhaps he should ask Roman’s opinion. Roman has never been one to soften the truth, so Logan knows that if Roman thinks he needs to work harder, he’ll tell Logan as much. In fact, he’s just about to go ask Roman, when he hears a door open, followed by voices coming from the hallway. He doesn’t exactly want an audience when he asks Roman’s opinion.

Logan presses his ear to the door, straining to hear who is in the hallway or what they’re saying. He can’t make it out, but the squeal that comes after a long moment is unmistakable.

“Sorry to interrupt, but oh my goodness, you two are so cute!!” he hears Patton say. “I was coming up here to check on you, Ro, but I guess you’re doing okay. I’ll be downstairs if you two lovebirds need anything!”

Ah. It seems Roman is busy at the moment. Logan will have to draw his own conclusions based on the data he has.

Fact: Logan has been emotionally compromised more often, especially following the courtroom scenario.

Fact: He hasn’t spent as much time working as he should have.

Fact: Patton called him “Logy”, which could be interpreted as a play on his name, but which also means sluggish or groggy.

There’s no need to chart it out. All of the data seems to point towards the fact that Logan has been slacking in his job as Logic, and he needs to work harder.

Perhaps he should skip dinner tonight. He doesn’t stand to gain anything from socializing with the others. But first…

He locks his bedroom door and walks calmly into the bathroom. He isn’t afraid of this, his preferred method of keeping his emotions in check, though he doesn’t doubt that the others would be horrified to learn of it. This is just how he maintains control, and if this is what he wants to do, then no one can stop him.


	11. The Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first: It's June, so happy pride month! I know things are kind of shit right now, what with the virus and all of the peaceful protests being turned violent by the police, but... I dunno, I don't have much else to add. ACAB, eat the rich, etc. (That sounds cavalier but I really do mean that; I'm just exhausted right now.)
> 
> Anyway, have some fluff; maybe it'll give you some serotonin. That's... pretty much all I'm going for. Escapism for the win, right?

“So,” Roman starts awkwardly, drumming his hands on his thighs.

He and Virgil are sitting on a grassy knoll in the Imagination. It seemed like the best option, since they obviously can’t talk in Virgil’s room, and they don’t know what will happen to Virgil if they spend too much time in Roman’s. The common area would have been the next best thing, but Roman didn’t think Virgil would want anyone overhearing them. Thus, the Imagination. The only person who might lurk around here would be Remus, and he already knows about both of them, so it doesn’t really matter. (Though Roman assured Virgil that his brother rarely comes over to his side of the Imagination all the same.)

“So,” Virgil echoes.

“Do you want to talk about the kiss first, or the… you know?” Roman gestures vaguely at Virgil, who curls his arms loosely over his stomach.

Virgil shrugs. “Dunno. You pick.”

Roman takes a deep breath. “Okay. So… How long have you been…?”

It’s Virgil’s turn to take a deep breath. Roman can see him tapping out a breathing schedule on his hip bone. “I don’t really know. A while. Years.”

“Before…?”

“Before I left the dark sides, yeah.”

“Can I ask why?”

Virgil takes a minute just to breathe before he answers. “I don’t know, I just… I’ve never really… liked myself, per se. And _that_ … Cutting, just, like. Gave me a way to, like. Not… be myself. So much. I mean, I know I can be. A lot. And you guys have been really great about accepting me since I tried to duck out, but I still kinda think that maybe Thomas would be better off… without me.”

“Virgil, you can’t… You don’t still think that, do you?”

Virgil is silent, plucking nervously at the grass.

“Oh, stormcloud…” Roman can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and he really hopes Virgil hasn’t noticed. He’s supposed to be comforting _Virgil,_ not the other way around. “Virgil,” he says, his voice thick with tears, “please don’t ever try to duck out again. I... We love you. _I_ love you.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. Virgil’s head shoots up, and he stares at Roman with wide eyes.

“I mean,” Roman says quickly, trying to backpedal. “Platonically! I love you _platonically._ I _like_ you romantically, that’s all. Just like. Like, like, like. ‘Do you want a ‘like it’ or a ‘love it’ sized Virgil?’ ‘Oh, thanks, I’ll just take a ‘like it’.’” God, his face is on fire. For a minute, he thinks the ground might _actually_ swallow him whole. This is the Imagination, after all; he controls the environment around them.

“Princey, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know.” He puts his head in his hands.

“...Okay,” Virgil says slowly.

“So I guess that brings us to the other thing.” Roman chuckles weakly.

“Guess so.”

Neither of them says anything, deliberately _not_ looking at each other.

“I didn’t… _dislike_ it,” Virgil says finally. “The kiss.”

“Me, neither.” There’s a long silence. God, what is it with him and the long silences today? Normally, Roman can barely get himself to _stop_ talking.

He blames Virgil.

“Do you…” Roman starts, clearing his throat. “Do you want to… go on a date? With me? Sometime?”

Virgil looks up through his bangs at Roman -- he’s technically taller than Roman, but when they’re sitting down, and Virgil is hunched over on himself like this… God, Roman is gay. So, so gay. “I’d like that,” he says softly.

Roman holds out his hand, and Virgil takes it.

“You know Remus tried to get me to ask you out?” he asks.

Virgil coughs. “ _What?_ ”

“I guess setting us up was part of his scheme or something. That’s… kind of why I asked you to come here, earlier.”

“Huh. I… didn’t actually know Remus had any idea what romance _was._ ”

“You know he’s dating Deceit, right?”

“I mean, _yeah,_ but I don’t really think Deceit knows what romance is, either.”

“If I may,” Roman says slowly, “how did Remus know? About you, I mean.”

Virgil stares pensively into the distance, a small wrinkle forming between his brows. Roman wants to kiss it to make it go away. “J- Deceit told him. I didn’t actually _want_ Deceit to know, but… he can kind of hear it, when we lie to ourselves. And I guess me lying to myself about how big of a deal it was kinda tipped him off, and he didn’t know how to help, so he told Remus. And then I got mad at him, and… I left.”

“Is that why you agreed not to tell the others?” Roman asks, connecting the dots.

Virgil nods. “Yeah. If I did that to you, when I got mad at _him_ for doing the exact same thing… I’d be no better than him.”

Privately, Roman wonders if Deceit was trying to hurt Virgil by telling Remus, or if he was trying to help. If he’d really been trying to hurt Virgil, wouldn’t he have told the light sides?

Ah, well. That’s a train of thought for another day. For now, he has a boyfriend to smooch.

And he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman is a gay disaster and I'm... totally not basing this on real events or anything.
> 
> (I'm not, but I can totally see myself blurting out that bit about 'like it'-sized Virgils. I once blurted out "Hey, I have a disease with that name!" to a customer. Very awkward.)
> 
> (I also told Ashton Kutcher that he looked like Ryan Reynolds by mistake. I'm a mess even at the best of times.)


	12. Too Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know probably no one is going to read this, but please consider watching this video WITH YOUR ADBLOCKER DISABLED to help the BLM movement. If you don't want to actually watch, you can put it in a background tab and mute your computer, but all ad revenue goes to support the BLM movement. And you don't even have to break quarantine!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCgLa25fDHM&feature=emb_logo

Patton is bleeding.

This isn’t new, for him. He spends more time than he’d like to admit bleeding. But this time is different.

This time, it won’t stop.

He’s trying not to freak out. He’s  _ really _ trying not to freak out. But he has no idea if sides can die, and he knows realistically it’s probably not as bad as he thinks it is, but he’s bleeding and it won’t stop and oh, god, he’s going to die.

He didn’t mean for this to happen. He never meant for it to be this deep. He was just so distracted and shaky and his hand slipped and there’s blood dripping onto the carpet and he’s crying, this isn’t how he wanted things to go.

Should he get help? Can he stand to put that kind of burden on one of his kiddos?

He can’t get Roman; he’s been so stressed lately, and he looks so frail. Patton can’t put this on him, too. And Virgil is probably with Roman right now, if what he saw earlier is any indication; he can’t get one without the other. 

There’s Logan, but he seemed kind of tense when Patton saw him in the kitchen, and he knows Logan doesn’t like to be bothered while he’s working. Remus would probably make the wound worse instead of helping patch him up.

That just leaves… Deceit.

Patton doesn’t trust Deceit, by any stretch. But he  _ is _ Thomas’ self-preservation, and he knows Deceit can keep a secret. Whether he’ll keep  _ Patton’s _ secret is a different matter, but he’ll know what to do. As self-preservation, he’s bound to have some medical knowledge, right?

He doesn’t want to call on him. But it’s the best option he’s got.

“Deceit?” he calls softly, raising a hand to draw the other side into the room.

“Patton, this is a surprise,” Deceit says coolly. “What do you- Oh, my.”

“Yeah…” Patton says sheepishly. “Sorry to bother you, kiddo. I need your help.”

Deceit doesn’t hesitate to conjure a thick gauze pad and press it to Patton’s leg. “Don’t- I mean, hold this,” he says tersely, pressing Patton’s hand against the wound, running to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

They don’t speak as Deceit cleans the blood off of Patton’s leg, a worried crease forming between Deceit’s brows as he sees the extent of the scarring on Patton’s skin. The wound doesn’t need stitches, he decides, but he pins it closed with butterfly strips all the same, once the bleeding has stopped and it’s been cleaned and disinfected. His gloves are stained red, but Deceit doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he kneels in front of Patton, gently wrapping a cloth bandage around his wound. Finally, he sits back, snapping his fingers to clean the blood off of himself, the sheets, and the carpet.

Patton stands awkwardly, pulling his khakis back up over his boxers. “Thanks, kiddo,” he says, sheepish.

“It wasn’t... It was nothing. May I?” Deceit asks, gesturing to the bed next to Patton. Patton nods, sitting back down as Deceit joins him.

* * *

He doesn’t know what he expected when Morality summoned him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Sure, he knew that Patton had been hurting himself for some time. And truthfully, the wound wasn’t all that deep; Remus gives himself worse on a pretty regular basis. Patton likely was just startled by the amount of blood and called for assistance. But for it to be Janus, of all sides…

He’s sitting next to Patton now, trying to figure out what to say -- and then, trying to translate his words so they come out meaning what they say; he’s all sorts of flustered, right now, and the reverse speech is setting in  _ hard. _

“Sorry to bother you, kiddo,” Patton finally says. “I just got a little worked up, is all. I’m fine.”

“Patton,” Janus says slowly, fighting to keep his composure. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Patton falls silent.

“You have- You don’t have to talk to me, but you need to talk to someone. The others will be more understanding than you think they will. Or, if you’re truly set against letting them in, you could speak to Dr. Picani, over in the Imagination. He’s... Truth be told, he’s helped me sort through my own feelings a time or two.”

Patton sighs, staring at the carpet as he scuffs his feet idly over it. “I know they’d want to help if they knew, but… I don’t want to put this on them. They all already deal with so much -- I mean, you’re in charge of deception, right? You’d know about all that.”

Janus nods. “I do. However, they are still your friends, and they care about you. Furthermore, I also… care about you, Patton.”

Patton looks up, and the eye contact sets Janus’ nerve endings on fire.  _ Good lord, _ Patton is beautiful.

He and Remus are quite open about their relationship. There’s no ill will about either of them having other partners, so long as they’re up-front about it. So when Patton’s hand reaches up to touch the scales on the left side of Janus’ face, hesitating centimetres away in case Janus isn’t okay with it, he doesn’t feel guilty about leaning into the contact. He holds Patton’s hand to his cheek, enjoying the novelty of being touched by someone other than Remus.

Patton’s left hand finds Janus’ right, and they sit quietly, enjoying the contact. Janus knows Patton is much more touch-starved than he’s willing to admit, and if he wants Janus to help alleviate that, well, he’s more than willing.

“I have more arms,” he says suddenly, before he can stop himself. “If you wanted me to…” He isn’t sure how he planned to end that sentence, but in the end, he doesn’t have to.

“Yes, please.”

They don’t kiss, though the thought certainly crosses Janus’ mind, and from the way Patton keeps glancing at his mouth, he’s sure it crossed his, as well. Instead, they lie back on Patton’s bed, Janus’ many limbs wrapped around Patton, holding each other close. After a long, comfortable silence, a clock chimes downstairs, letting them know that it’s 5 o’clock. Time for Patton to start cooking.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” he asks as they sit up, but Janus is already shaking his head.

“Thank you, but no,” he says, standing. “I can’t imagine any of the others would be very glad to have me, and I’m sure Remus is wondering where I’ve gone. But please don’t hesitate to call on me if you need anything.” He gives Patton one last smile and sinks out, hoping to God that he’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next chapter is my favorite so far.


	13. Intrusive, Indeed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my favorite chapter.
> 
> This is, like, the one place no one can make me shut up, so I'm going to ramble about Animal Crossing for a minute. I've been terraforming the hell out of my island, so it's got a horseshoe-shaped river going all the way through it, with all of the houses lined up on the inside and a large orchard of various types of fruit trees on the outside. I also made side profiles for each of the Sides, and set them up in left brain/right brain order on either side of my house. Because of course I'm going to smash my two current hyperfixations together, even though I'm the only one who will ever see my island and no one else will ever play with me. Loneliness is fun.
> 
> Anyway, Intrulogical! This chapter contains quite a bit of Remus being Remus, and honestly Remus and Logan interacting is my favorite pairing to write. I do hope I've done a good job...

In Remus’ defense, he wasn’t  _ planning _ on hiding in Logan’s shower and spying on him.

He’d actually just come in here to steal a few of Logan’s ties for some  _ suggestive eyebrow wiggling _ with Janus later, rising up just after Logan left to get more coffee from the kitchen. The trouble is, Remus spent too long trying to decide whether he wanted to take some clean ties or get them from Logan’s laundry basket, weighing the options of Janny’s preference for cleanliness vs the fact that Logan is really hot and smells nice and Remus would love to tap that, and suddenly there were footsteps outside the door, approaching fast.

In retrospect, Remus realizes he could’ve just sunk back out before Logan came in. He’s not sure why he ducked into Logan’s shower instead, hiding himself behind the curtain, but he did, and he’s committed now. (He’s having a bit more fun with this whole situation than he’d like to admit.) (Oh, who’s he kidding? He’s the Duke! This is really exciting, in more ways than one.)

If he grabbed a stick of deodorant off the bathroom counter on his way, that’s nobody’s business but his own. (What? He could be here awhile. Let him live.)

He settles himself into Logan’s bathtub, feet propped up against the wall and head tilted back against the tile, uncapping the stolen deodorant stick and twisting it up. He listens to the sounds of Logan rummaging around in his bathroom cupboard and wonders what he would look like under Remus’ hands, blissed out and lying next to him, maybe running his fingers over Janny’s scales. He’s just about to take a contemplative bite of the deodorant, his pants growing uncomfortably tight, when he hears something strange.

A sob.

It’s stifled, and clearly the person who made it is trying very hard not to let it out at all, but it’s there. Just on the other side of the curtain. But Remus has never known Logan to cry.

He sits frozen, listening intently. There’s another sob, and the sound of a drawer sliding open. Logan, or whoever it is, picks something out and closes it again. Then there’s a rustle of fabric, and the clank of… if he had to guess, Remus would say it’s a belt buckle. Then the groan of the toilet seat lid as Logan sits down, and… a soft hiss.

Remus knows that hiss. That’s a hiss of pain.

Logan is hurt.

Tentatively, Remus cranes his neck to peek around the curtain, nudging it aside just the smallest hair so Logan doesn’t see the movement. But it soon becomes clear his efforts are wasted.

Logan is sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, jeans off, in his boxers. (A small part of Remus’ brain notes that they have little atoms on them, for later fantasizing and/or debauchery.) Then Remus notices he’s holding a scalpel in one hand and a gauze pad in the other, and there are tear tracks running down his face. Oh, no. He knows that look. Logan is so deep into his own head now, he would never notice a little curtain rustling.

But that’s not what makes Remus sick. What makes Remus sick is the thin, methodical lines marching up and down Logan’s thighs in neat, even rows. It actually forms a gradient, fading from most to least healed, like Logan rotates where he hurts himself, and Remus wants to scream.

God, is there  _ anyone _ in the mindscape who isn’t severely fucked up?! At this point, it seems to Remus like the only two who aren’t making themselves bleed on a regular basis are Patton and the good ol’ orange recluse downstairs. (Although, Remus doesn’t really know enough about him to know if he’s got the same problem. So maybe it’s just Patton.)

Well, shit.

What can he do? He can’t very well just sit here and watch, but he can’t exactly jump out from behind the curtain, either. What if he startled Logan and Logan accidentally sliced through an artery or something? (Ugh, much more of this and he’ll be able to take over for Virgil. Get it together, Remus. You’re the trash man!)

Very, very slowly, Remus starts pulling aside the curtain, sitting up as he does so. If Logan notices, he doesn’t show it.

“Hey,” Remus whispers, placing his hand on Logan’s own. “Give me that.”

Logan jumps, and immediately his demeanor changes. He sits up straighter, wiping furiously at his eyes. “Oh,” he says, clearly trying and failing to control his voice. “Hello, Remus. Why are you in my bathtub?”

Remus shrugs. “I’m just vibing. Why don’t you give me that pretty little scalpel and we can get you cleaned up?” he asks, voice remarkably soft for him. Huh, he’s usually only able to get like this when Janny is hurting. Sure, he’d bang Logan anytime he asked, but the idea that there might be actual feelings there is… something he never stopped to think about.

_ Focus, Remus. Kind of in the middle of something here. _

“I assure you, I’m quite alright. My apologies that you had to see me like this,” Logan says with a sniffle.

Gently, Remus pries the scalpel from Logan’s fingers and tucks it into his pocket. It pokes him a little, but oh well, shit happens. Not like he doesn’t have a million scars already; what’s one more?

“Lolo, I don’t need Dee here to tell me that’s a load of bullshit. Tell me or don’t, it’s up to you, but I’m cleaning you up whether you like it or not.”

“I… Thank you, Remus. That’s very kind.” He looks at Remus for a moment, before glancing down and noticing something in his lap. “Is that my deodorant?”

Remus shrugs, taking the gauze pad from Logan and pressing it to the fresh wounds on his leg. “Who’s to say.”

Neither of them speaks as Remus climbs out of the bathtub and cleans Logan’s leg, running his fingers sadly over the older scars. In different circumstances, he might be interested in the way the ridges feel under his fingers, but not right now. Right now, there’s a very cute, very sad nerd in front of him who needs help.

Once the cuts are clean and bandaged, Remus sits back on his heels and Logan stands up, pulling his pants back on.

“Thank you for your help, Remus. My apologies that you had to see me in such a state. I do hope you will keep this between us.” Logan turns to leave the bathroom, but Remus catches his wrist. (Maybe he mourns the loss of the excuse to stare at his ass a little, too. What are you, a cop?)

“Hold on, Calculator Watch. You’re not getting out of this that easy.” He sits Logan back down on the closed toilet lid, and plops himself on the edge of the bathtub. “You wanna know why I know how to do all that?” he asks.

Logan frowns. “Because having a working knowledge of basic first aid is practical?”

Remus shakes his head. “Because my head fucks with me too. I doubt it’s exactly the same, but… I just wanted you to know you’re not as alone as that shitstain up there-” he pokes the side of Logan’s head for emphasis- “says you are. I know I’m probably the last person you want to trust with this, and I get it. I’m disgusting. But you should definitely talk to one of the others about it.”

Logan takes a deep breath. “Remus, while I appreciate the concern, and I am troubled to hear that you have had issues with hurting yourself in the past, I assure you that I am completely fine. You need not concern yourself with my wellbeing.”

“Uh, yeah, no, that’s bullshit. I don’t know what you think this is, but slicing yourself open with a scalpel is not ‘completely fine’. Now you promise me you’re gonna talk to one of the others or I will march you over to Patton’s room right now and physically force you to talk about your feelings.”

“Remus, I-”

“Promise me, Lolo. Now.”

Logan sighs heavily. “I promise. May I please get back to work now?”

“Yeah, okay.” Remus stands, and Logan does too. They file out of the bathroom, and Logan heads toward his desk as Remus heads to the door.

“Ah,” Logan starts, just as Remus lays his hand on the doorknob. “You do not… have to leave. Which is to say, it would be alright if you wanted to, er… ‘hang out’, as they say.”

And Remus doesn’t need any more of an excuse to stare at such a hot piece of ass than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes hello I crave validation please tell me what you think.


	14. Plotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week I made liberal use of the time-travel feature in Animal Crossing: New Horizons, as well as the fact that apparently if you travel back in time, your island stays in exactly the state you left it in. So, all my buildings are where I want them now! I'm also making use of IGN's Redd Art Guide and the fact that I have seven player characters living on my island (me + the six sides) to fill out my museum's art gallery. My real life is kind of a mess (as evidenced by the cat pee by the bathroom even though I JUST scooped the litter box last night, as well as the mouse blood in the corner because my cat refuses to eat in the bathroom when I don't properly appreciate her kills even though it was midnight and she woke me up), but my island is thriving. I am rich with fruit trees, and am also planning to make the villagers who have been getting on my nerves to move out. (I do feel kinda bad for trapping Pinky in her yard with fences, but I made the mistake of agreeing to let her call me 'shmoopy' and it's been driving me insane ever since. Also, I gave her the catchphrase 'dude' and it's more annoying than I thought it would be.)
> 
> Anyway, updates! Here's a chapter. It's not very good.

“Jan, help, this entire place is full of self-destructive idiots,” Remus calls as he gets back to his room several hours later. He and Logan had hung out until Patton had called Logan down for dinner. (Remus may or may not have nabbed a few ties on his way out, but if Logan noticed, he didn’t say anything.)

Janus is already on Remus’ bed, playing Animal Crossing and waiting for him. “Oh, believe me, I know. I spent two hours cuddling with Patton today because he was that desperate for contact. I hope those light sides are taking better care of Virgil than they are of themselves.”

Remus flops dramatically onto the bed, and Janus just raises his arms so Remus can drape himself across his lap. “Tell me about it. I spent who knows how long listening to Logan talk about science just because he wanted company  _ that _ badly! I mean, I got to stare at his ass while he talked, so it wasn’t that bad, but still.”

Janus boops Remus on the nose, holding the Switch with his other hand. “You like listening to people ramble about their interests and you know it.”

Remus sticks his tongue out at that, but Janus isn’t wrong. Remus knows all too well how it feels not to be listened to, and sure, science may not be his favorite subject, but fuck if he wasn’t gonna listen to Lolo talk as long as he wanted to.

It helps that now he can use all the cool stuff he learned to come up with some really cool nightmare fuel for Thomas. Did you know that the core of a star can reach 16 million degrees celsius?

_ Imagine how much it would hurt to stand next to one, _ his brain whispers.

Nope. None of that. The nightmare fuel is for Thomas, not for him, thank you very much.

“What do you think we should do?” Janus asks.

Remus blinks up at him. “You want…  _ my _ opinion? On something  _ good? _ ” He shouldn’t be surprised, really; Janus asks for his input all the time. But sometimes… it still takes him by surprise, that anyone actually wants to hear what he has to say.

“I always do, Dukey.”

“Well…” He pauses, thinking. “I don’t really know what’s going on with Patton, but from what I’ve seen of the others, we need to do something to make them actually  _ talk about _ their shit instead of just pretending it’s not there.”

“I agree. Do you think you could help with that?”

“Maybe. What are you thinking?”

Janus pauses the game and smiles wickedly down at Remus. They’re going to make the other sides talk about their feelings if it kills them, and step one is letting Remus make his grand introduction.

* * *

Remus almost doesn’t want to hit his brother over the head with his morning star.  _ Almost _ .

Given what he knows about Roman, there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to cause him any more pain, but he  _ also _ knows that he’ll never get a chance to speak to Thomas directly if Roman has his way.

Also, he has the Cain instinct. So sue him.

It isn’t all that hard to manifest himself in the living room -- the  _ real _ living room. He’s never tried it before, but ever since Dee’s disaster in the courtroom, he’s been feeling… stronger. More powerful. He can talk to Thomas more directly now, and Thomas can’t shut him out any longer.

The only time his crazed mask falters is when Thomas calls him scary. (Sure, he  _ is _ kind of crazed, but there’s more to him than that.) He doesn’t want to let it show, but that word brings up… a lot of bad memories, from before the sides split into light and dark. From the times he would try to speak his mind, before he learned to keep it inside and take it out on himself instead, when he’d try to share one of his ideas and the others would yell at him, calling him bad and wrong and  _ scary _ .

He just wanted to speak his mind and be himself. How was that scary?

Overall, it goes pretty well, he guesses. Sure, they all hate him -- and that hurts more than he’s willing to admit -- but Thomas isn’t trying to get rid of him anymore. He’s a part of him, and Thomas is just going to have to deal with that.

(When he gets back, he can tell Janus is upset that he was accepted so easily, that his door has moved upstairs within an hour of him meeting Thomas for the first time, no matter how he tries to hide it. He holds him as he cries and makes sure to take extra care patching up the fresh wounds on his skin. And if he sleeps in Janus’ room most nights, well, that’s nobody’s business but theirs.) (It’s not like he doesn’t lie to himself enough for the room’s effects to be largely null anyway.)


	15. Something's Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I was supposed to post this yesterday but I forgot because I am a disaster human and it was my first day back at work since March and I was kind of distracted by screaming to be heard through the background noise of the market + the music of the shop playing next door, plus the sound barriers of the plexiglass box I now exist in and my face mask. So, that was fun and I almost lost my voice. Oops.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry this chapter ends in something of a cliffhanger. It just seemed like it was getting kind of long and I wanted to break it into a second chapter. I really hope you like it.

It’s Patton who notices something is wrong with Logan first.

Well, okay, he already knew there was something wrong with Logan. Not that Logan is anything but perfect! It’s just… he’s upset about something. He’s been avoiding Patton for _weeks_ , ever since that day in the kitchen, but no matter how Patton approaches it, Logan won’t tell him what’s wrong.

And that’s fine. Logan can have his privacy.

Or, at least, that’s what Patton thinks until he’s sorting Logan’s laundry -- something he’s insisted the sides do ever since Thomas learned how, since it makes them feel more human -- and finds little dots of blood on the inside of one of Logan’s pairs of jeans.

He sits there, frozen, for what feels like an eternity. Because he knows these dots. He’s seen the exact same pattern on the inside of his khakis when he scratches his legs too much. And that means…

That means he failed. He failed Logan. He failed one of his kiddos.

Finally, after a long moment, he puts the pants into the washer with the rest of the load and turns it on. Logan doesn’t need him to be freaking out right now. Logan needs him to keep a clear head and figure out how to help him.

Obviously, he needs to get Logan to stop, right? Sure, it’s maybe a little hypocritical of him to say Logan has to stop when he doesn’t want to himself, but it’s different. Logan is different. He’s… more important, to Thomas and to the others.

Logan doesn’t deserve to feel like this.

He waits until after dinner, when Roman and Virgil have disappeared to do who knows what in the Imagination. Logan starts to leave too, but Patton calls him back.

“Hey, Logan, can I talk to you about something real quick?” he asks.

Logan pauses and looks around, confused. “Is something the matter, Patton?”

“No, kiddo, it’s just… Why don’t we go sit in the living room? We’ll be more comfortable there, and I can finish cleaning up later.”

He walks confidently into the living room, and Logan, reluctantly, follows.

They wind up sitting diagonally on the sectional couch, Patton on Logan’s left. He drums his fingers nervously on his khaki-clad knees, resisting the urge to scratch at his skin. Logan would know in a heartbeat; he knows the signs.

“What did you need to talk to me about?” Logan asks.

“...Well,” Patton says slowly, “you know how I do the laundry every week?”

Logan nods.

“...Well, today, I was sorting through your laundry, and… I found some stains on the legs of your jeans. Bloodstains.”

Logan’s eyes go wide, but just as quickly, he schools his face into a neutral expression. “Ah, that. No need to worry, Patton, that was just… an accident with one of my experiments. I cut my hand and the blood dripped onto my leg. It’s nothing.”

Patton looks at him with sad eyes, but before he can say anything, Deceit rises up into Patton’s spot by the window.

“Do not be alarmed,” he says preemptively, seeing Logan’s shock and anger. “I am simply here to deliver a message to Morality.”

“Oh,” Patton says, surprised. “Okay, kiddo. What’s the message?”

“Logan is, for lack of a better term, full of shit, and your first instinct about those stains was right.” Logan opens his mouth to interject, but Deceit silences him with a wave of his hand. “However, it would be… unfair to expect Logan to be honest with you when you haven’t been honest with him.”

“What do you mean by that, kiddo?” _You’re a hypocrite,_ his mind whispers. Patton squashes the thought as best as he can, but he can feel Logan’s gaze on him, piercing and concerned.

“It’s not my place to give specifics. However, I do think it would be for the best if you called Roman and Virgil in for this discussion, as well. You’re all much more similar than you’d like to think, I assure you.”

Patton’s eyes go wide behind his glasses, and he feels the color drain from his face. “You don’t mean…?” he starts to ask, but he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Why don’t you ask them?” Deceit gestures with his hand, and suddenly Roman and Virgil appear on the stairs, holding hands and looking around in confusion.

“DECEIT!” Roman screams, pointing furiously. Virgil throws up his hood and hisses, body language defensive as he hides behind Roman.

“Oh, relax _._ I was just leaving. Have fun, you four!” And with that, as quickly as he arrived, he sinks back out.

“What’s going on?” Virgil asks, looking between Logan and Patton.

Patton takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. This is… not going to be an easy conversation to have.

“I believe I understand,” Logan says, voice measured. Patton can tell he’s trying very hard to mask the slight tremor in his hands. “It seems we’ve all been keeping secrets from each other. Or, rather, we’ve each been keeping the same secret. Am I wrong, Patton?”

Patton shakes his head, staring at the wall, unable to bring himself to look at them. “No, Lo, you’re… you’re right. About me, at least.” He inhales shakily, trying to make himself keep going. “I’m sorry, kiddos. I just didn’t want you to worry about me.”

He feels a hand on his knee, and he looks around, surprised. Logan gives him a comforting smile.

Roman raises his hand. “Okay, I’m lost. Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”

Patton pats the couch next to him, sliding closer to Logan to make room. “Ro, Virge, why don’t you two come sit down? We need to have a talk.”

Nervously, Roman crosses the room and sits down next to Patton, Virgil trailing behind him, holding tight to Roman’s sash.


	16. A Long-Awaited Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my friend Lilac for helping out with this chapter. I'm really bad at writing confrontation scenes.
> 
> On that note, please let me know how you think we did on this chapter!

The couch feels substantially more crowded than usual. Maybe it’s the tension left from Deceit’s quick exit. ~~Maybe it’s the painful awareness of the scars on all of their bodies.~~ After a long moment, Logan is the one to break the silence.

“How long has it been, Patton? Since you started…” Logan is momentarily rendered speechless as he tries ~~and fails~~ to explain the circumstance the four have found themselves in.

“How long since what?” Roman asks, still confused. “Padre, is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, kiddos! Really, I’m more concerned about all of you!”

“Bullshit you’re fine.” Virgil’s voice is louder than he expects it to be, and he clamps a hand over his own mouth, trying to contain the demonic echo that rings through the room.

“Language, kiddo, but what makes you think that?” Patton asks.  
The group is silent for a moment before Logan abruptly finishes the thought.

“Well, given that there’s nothing on your arms, I’m going to assume that exhibit A is the state of your legs.”  
Patton flushes red and looks down at his shoes.

“Pat? What’s he talking about?” Roman asks, but the color is already draining from his face as realization dawns. But God, does he not want to believe it.

Suddenly, Virgil launches himself across Roman, tackling Patton in a desperate hug. “I’m so sorry, Patton, I had no idea,” he whispers, the echo already gone from his trembling voice.

Patton, finding himself with his back against the wall - or rather, the couch - silently hugs back.

“Can someone _please_ explain to me what is going on here?” Roman asks, though he already knows the answer.

Virgil pushes himself off of Roman’s lap, into his original seat, and links their fingers together, giving Roman’s hand a comforting squeeze. “I think you know, Princey.”

And that’s when the penny drops, for all of them. This whole time, they’ve thought they were completely alone, but they’ve been alone together, mere inches away from people who understand. They’re all hurting. ~~They’re all covered in scars.~~

“...Well, shit,” Roman mutters.

“Is… is it as bad? For all of you?” Virgil’s voice is barely above a whisper, but it rings throughout the otherwise silent room.

“It’s difficult to assess the severity of our wounds in relation to yours, Virgil, if we don’t know the extent of them,” Logan points out.

Virgil curls in on himself, and Roman places a comforting hand on his arm.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says softly. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“However,” Logan continues, “I assure you that any injuries I’ve sustained, at least, are of an inconsequential nature.”

Patton frowns at him. “Do you mean they’re not that bad, or do you mean that it doesn’t matter? Because one of those things is very much not true. Actually, both of those things are not true; if you’re hurting yourself _at all_ , it’s bad.”

Logan is quick to respond. “I know that you tend to worry about me, but both of those statements are, in fact, true. They are not serious in nature, and, to use your words, Patton, ‘don’t matter’. While I am quite concerned that you all felt the need to resort to this as a method of coping, I do not see the issue with my partaking in the same habit. You all are much more emotional than I am, and therefore stand to become addicted to hurting yourselves as a coping mechanism. I, however, am the epitome of logic and am in no such danger.”

“Falsehood.” The word hangs in the air for longer than usual, perhaps in part due to the unprecedented identity of its speaker. The shock left on Virgil’s face afterwards certainly spoke to its meaning within this context. For once, it is Logan on the receiving end of self-destructive, backwards logic -- a ‘cognitive distortion’, as he liked to call it.

“I… I don’t quite know what you mean, Virgil. You are all infinitely better at this understanding of these fickle things you call _feelings_ , than I am or seek to ever be.”

“Logan, please,” Patton says, placing his hand on Logan’s knee. “You and I both know that’s not true, and I wish you would see that. You’re more than just Logic, you’re _Logan_. You’re our friend, kiddo, and we care about you. We don’t want to see you in pain.”

Logan is silent for a moment. “Well, I’m not the only one with injuries here,” he snaps, rather more harshly than he means to. “What about you, Patton? You’re hurting yourself, too.”

Patton sputters. “Well… I mean…”

“Actually, Padre, I’d… kind of like to hear this, too,” Roman chimes in. “I thought you said you were going to stop repressing things after that whole _Guys and Dolls_ fiasco.”

“I was _going to_ , really! And I tried! It’s just… I could see you were all so busy with your own things, and I didn’t want to bother you with my problems, too.”

“Patton,” Virgil says slowly, “talking about your problems with us isn’t _bothering_ us. We care about you, just as much as you care about us.”

“We love you, Padre.” Roman slings an arm around Patton’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Aww, thanks, kiddos.” Patton hugs Roman for a moment, before a frown appears on his face and he leans back, holding Roman at arm’s length to get a good look at him. “You’re awfully thin, Roman, have you been eating enough?”

Roman plucks at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt, pretending not to have heard the question.

“Roman,” Patton says again, more insistent. “Have you been eating enough?”

“Weeeell…” Roman starts, drawing the word out much farther than it’s meant to go, but Virgil cuts him off.

“I can say it, if you want,” he offers.

Wordlessly, Roman nods, giving Virgil’s hand a grateful squeeze.

“The short answer, Patton, is no, Roman _hasn’t_ been eating enough. Apparently our dear prince has some self-esteem issues, and doesn’t really think he deserves food because he thinks he’s not ‘good enough’, or something. I’ve been trying to help him with it these past few weeks, and he’s getting a little better, but there’s still a long way to go.”

“Oh, _kiddo!_ ” Patton cries, throwing his arms around Roman in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea!”

“Yeah, Padre, that’s kind of the point,” Roman chokes out. Thankfully for his lungs, Patton takes the hint and loosens his grip.

“Roman, I think it would be ideal for me to perform a check-up on your physical state at some point in the near future,” Logan tells him. “I don’t know the long-term effects starvation may have on a side, and I’d rather be, er… safe than sorry, as they say.”

Roman pulls a face at that, but Virgil squeezes his hand.

“You know it’s for the best, Ro,” he says softly, “and I’ll be right by your side if you want me to.”

“Please,” Roman whispers, holding Virgil’s hand tightly in his own, like he never wants to let go.

“Virgil?” Patton asks softly. “What about you?”

“Me?” Virgil looks up, surprised. “What about me?”

“Well, you’ve been hurting yourself too, right? Do you wanna talk about why?”

Virgil shrugs, curling in on himself as if to disappear into his hoodie. “I dunno, it just… helps, I guess. It helps me… not… be _me_ , so much.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Virgil,” Logan says.

“I dunno, I mean… I’m Anxiety, you know? I’m the bad guy -- hell, you guys already know I used to be a dark side. I’m bad for Thomas, and it just… makes it easier to not, like, influence him as much.”

“Oh, _kiddo,_ ” Patton breathes. “That’s not true at all!”

“Indeed,” Logan adds. “As we’ve said before, anxiety is not inherently a bad thing. Not only do you enable Thomas to avoid and escape from dangerous situations, you also motivate him to work on projects and complete tasks that he would otherwise put off.”

“We need you, stormcloud,” Roman says, putting an arm around Virgil’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Thanks, guys,” Virgil says, voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.

“Well!” Patton claps his hands together. “I don’t know about you guys, but I think a movie night is in order! But first -- a group hug?” He frames it like a question, giving everyone room to back out if they really don’t want to participate, but none of them do.

It’s nice to have his famILY all together like this, he thinks. Even if he does wish it were under better circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, SOMEONE noticed Logan didn't really share anything about himself.


	17. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I'm in a shitty mood and I'd like to rant about some family drama. Just a warning that you should skip the end-chapter notes if you don't want to read about it. Ordinarily I'd never think of posting something like this online, but I'm pretty sure my friends are sick of hearing about it and there are probably only, like, three people who read this story regularly anyway. Besides, if you somehow know me IRL you already know I don't like my sister.
> 
> Oh, and please tell me what you think of the story!

Of course, nothing is fixed right away.

Logan gives Roman a thorough check-up a few days later -- Virgil holds tight to Roman’s hand the whole time -- and determines that though there shouldn’t be any long-term effects from Roman’s poor eating habits, he really does need to put on some weight. And so, Patton launches the “Get Roman Healthy” campaign, which mainly consists of showering Roman in his favorite foods and making sure he gets the first chance at the Crofter’s. (Logan didn’t like that at first, but Roman quickly gets into the habit of conjuring up extra jars just for Logan and hiding them all over the mindscape, so it’s alright in the end.) Roman, to his credit, does his best to work his way back up to normal portion sizes, but it’s clear he’s not all that happy about it.

Despite everyone’s best efforts, however, Roman remains too thin for their liking, and it’s not until Virgil follows Roman up to his room after dinner one night that he discovers why.

He’s noticed Roman is quick to duck away from the table after every meal, making some excuse about taking a nap or needing a shower. They believed him the first few times, but it keeps happening, and Virgil doesn’t like it.

(He especially didn’t like the significant glances Deceit kept trying to give him, looking from Virgil to Roman and back, when Deceit came to chew Roman out for stealing his hat at their last movie night with Thomas.)

So, when Roman heads up the stairs, Virgil waits a minute and then tiptoes after him, quiet as a mouse. (He never thought he’d be using the skills he learned sneaking around the kitchen in the middle of the night, stealing food for himself and the other dark sides -- even though the kitchen was  _ supposed _ to be a neutral zone -- to be tailing his boyfriend through the mindscape, but hey, he never thought he’d have a chance to call Roman his boyfriend, either.)

Roman’s door is locked when he tries the handle.

Shit. The last time Roman locked the door was that first day Virgil found out, when he found him…

_ Shitshitshit. _

Virgil doesn’t hesitate, sinking out and reappearing in Roman’s room in less than a second. But Roman isn’t there.

Quickly, he looks towards the door to the Imagination, but that’s closed, too. Roman always leaves it open when they go in there, in case anyone comes looking for them. So that leaves…

Virgil looks to the bathroom door, which is also closed. There’s a light shining around the edges of the door, and Virgil can hear the sound of running water, and… something else he can’t quite place.

He strides across the room, taking care not to step on any of the stuff Roman has left strewn across the floor, and knocks at the door. “Roman? Are you in there?”

As his words reach Roman, Virgil feels a violent spike of anxiety from the bathroom.

He listens for a reply, but all he hears is the running water, and the other sound -- gagging, interspersed with violent coughs. Roman is throwing up. 

Why didn’t Roman tell them he was sick? And why is he so afraid of Virgil finding out?

Virgil tries the doorknob -- locked, and if Roman is throwing up, he probably can’t get away from the toilet enough to unlock it. So Virgil sinks out again, reappearing in the bathroom. Immediately the acrid stench of vomit hits him, along with a wave of fear, and he has to fight not to stumble back from the combined force. Then he catches sight of his boyfriend.

“Oh, Ro…” he says softly, concern ringing in every note of his voice.

For there sits the prince, kneeling on the tile, gagging into the toilet bowl, eyes staring fearfully at Virgil.

Immediately Virgil is on the floor beside him, rubbing comforting circles into Roman’s back. “Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna be okay, just let it out.”

Roman dry-heaves a few more times, and then, finally, goes silent.

“You’re not feeling well, baby?” Virgil asks, carding his fingers through Roman’s hair. Belatedly, he notices a metal spoon lying on the counter, covered in vomit. That’s… weird.

Roman a handful of toilet paper and wipes at his mouth, shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he croaks, dropping the toilet paper into the bowl. “Stomach’s just upset.”

“Then what’s that?” Virgil points to the dirty spoon on the counter, and he feels Roman tense under his hand. “Roman, have you… Have you been making yourself sick?”

Roman doesn’t reply, instead wiping the spoon off with a fresh wad of toilet paper and dropping that into the bowl, too, setting the spoon back on the counter as he pushes the plunger on the side of the toilet,  _ whooshing _ the mess away.

“Ro, we have to talk about this,” Virgil insists, as Roman climbs to his feet, Virgil close behind him.

“I’m sorry, V,” he says finally, sticking his hands under the already running water. “I just… I can’t do it. It’s too hard.”

Virgil wraps his arms around Roman’s waist from behind, doing his best to provide a comforting presence as Roman tries to articulate his feelings. “It’s okay, Ro. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“It’s just… I’ve been trying, I really have. But you guys are pushing food at me  _ all the time, _ and I just… I can’t  _ not _ feel hungry without hating myself. And I know you want me to get better, and I’m sorry, I just… I  _ can’t. _ ”

“Ro, hey,” Virgil says, turning his boyfriend around as Roman finishes drying his hands. “Look at me. I’m not mad, okay?”

“...You’re not?” Roman asks, confused.

Virgil shakes his head. “Nope. I’m just worried about you. I could never be mad at you for something like this, especially when I know you’re more than mad enough at yourself. Okay?”

Reluctantly, Roman nods.

“Come here, baby.” Virgil wraps his arms around Roman, pulling him into a tight hug.

And sure, maybe nothing is okay. Maybe they’re both covered in scars and Roman’s stomach is empty and his shoulder blades are jabbing uncomfortably into Virgil’s forearms. But they’re together, and they’re communicating, and they’re going to get through this.

_ Even if it kills me, _ Virgil thinks,  _ I will help him get better. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, TW for emotional abuse and manipulation, as well as neglectful parenting.
> 
> So my sister is kind of a shithead. I don't like to speak rudely about people behind their backs, but she is. She was verbally, emotionally, and occasionally physically abusive to me throughout our entire childhood, and I don't use those terms lightly. The entire time I've known her she's insisted upon getting her way and going against my wishes, whether it's taking pictures of me randomly despite me repeatedly asking her to stop, or sitting on my chest and tickling me until I can't breathe, or dragging me across the house and trapping me in my room. Fun times, right? I've been telling her that I want her to leave me alone since my sophomore year of high school, but she just. Keeps. Coming. Back. Like, I get that my mom is also her mom and she has a place in this house and whatnot, but I spend almost all of my time either in my room or out of the house -- how difficult could it be for her to leave me alone?
> 
> Apparently, harder than you'd think.
> 
> Things came to a bit of a head yesterday, when she asked me if she could borrow my colored pencil set, which I've let her use before. If it had been almost anyone else, I'd have said yes, but she constantly overrides my autonomy and refuses to take no for an answer. Every time I say I don't want to play a board game, or sit at the table for dinner. or pose for the family photos she always insists on. or play Animal Crossing on the TV instead of in my room so she can watch, it's always "come on, please?" or "do it for mom's sake" or "why not?" and I'm sick of her shit, and I don't owe her anything, so I said no. Of course, she got pissed and wanted to know why I was mad at her. I told her I wasn't -- which, at the time, was sort of true; I wasn't any angrier with her than I usually am -- and she got all pissy and started slamming shit downstairs and my mom actually texted me to ask me if SHE could borrow the colored pencils so my sister could use them. Because all my mom wants -- all any of my family members want, actually -- is for me to drop all of the issues I have with her and play nice and let her walk all over me, because my sister will not shut up until she gets her way and I am the only one who ever actually tells her "no".
> 
> She's 23, by the way. My 23-year-old sister threw a temper tantrum because I wouldn't let her borrow my colored pencils, which she is in no way entitled to use.
> 
> (Don't be too mad at my mom, though. She's got three kids and she divorced my dad when I was six; she was doing the best she could.)
> 
> This is, by far, the dumbest fight I've ever been in, and I tried to explain my reasoning and how it shouldn't be this big of a deal for me to tell her "no", but all the same, my mom isn't speaking to me and I haven't seen my sister since yesterday. It says something about how a lot of these situations have turned out in the past that even though I am almost 20 years old, I still expected my mom to come upstairs and take away my computer or something like I'm a petulant child. I also fully expected my sister to steal my colored pencils while I was at work today, but my door doesn't lock, so I had no way of preventing it and I have no way of knowing whether or not she did that. It would be in character, though, given how little she respects my privacy.
> 
> Anyway, it's dinnertime now, but I do not want to go downstairs to cook food. I don't have work until 1:30 tomorrow, so maybe I'll just wait until after everyone goes to bed and sneak down to make something, idk. I could also go out to eat, but I do that kind of a lot and I'm getting a little sick of drive thru food.
> 
> Thank you for listening, if you actually bothered to read this. I'll shut up now.


	18. Relapse, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for ranting at you guys about my personal life in the notes of the last chapter, so I'm posting a second chapter today. Have some flirty hurt/comfort Moceit. I honestly think this chapter is kinda shitty, but I can't bring myself to delete it, so. Here's this.

Janus can’t remember why he was coming to Patton’s room in the first place. ~~He’s not sure he _had_ a reason, aside from wanting to see Patton’s beautiful face.~~

How they can all have the same face but wear it so differently, he may never know. What he _does_ know is that Patton is… infinitely prettier than himself.

(This has absolutely ~~everything~~ nothing to do with the fact that Patton is Janus’ opposite in every respect. ~~Of course Patton is lovely where Janus is monstrous.~~ )

Regardless of his initial reasoning, he finds himself standing outside Patton’s door, trying to decide whether to knock, when he hears a sound. And… yes, there it is again. If he listens _very_ closely and stops just short of holding his breath, he can hear quiet sniffling.

Oh, dear. Patton is supposed to go to someone -- almost always one of the light sides -- when he’s upset, not cry alone in his room. And now that Janus knows, he can’t just _leave_ him, right? That would be cruel, to Patton and to Thomas.

Softly, Janus raises a gloved hand to knock on the door. If Patton truly wants to be alone, Janus won’t force his company onto him.

There’s no answer out loud, but Janus can hear Patton lying to himself through the door. _Maybe if I’m quiet enough, they’ll go away._

_This isn’t a big deal, no one needs to be worried about me._

_This is a one-time thing; it’s not a relapse._

Janus’ eyes widen, and he sinks out, reappearing in Patton’s room mid-step, already striding to Patton’s side. He wipes gently at Patton’s tear-stained cheeks with a gloved hand.

“We simply _have_ to stop meeting like this, my dear,” he says softly, tilting Patton’s chin to look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Deceit!” Patton gasps, surprised. “Hi! Did you need something?”

“Only to stop those lies dancing through your head.” Gently, Janus lifts Patton’s hand and pries the small razor from his hand, vanishing it to his own domain with a flick of his wrist. He’ll dispose of it properly later.

“I- You don’t need to- I’m fine,” Patton tries, but Janus lays a finger to his lips, silencing him. _This isn’t flirting,_ he tells himself, though he knows it’s a lie. _I’m_ not _flirting with this boy while there are open wounds on his skin._

Shaking his head slightly to clear it, Janus conjures a gauze pad and presses it to Patton’s leg, ensuring Patton will hold it in place while he goes to get the first aid kit from the bathroom. He tries, and fails, to shake the uncomfortable sense of déjà vu that fills him. God, he really hoped they’d never be in this situation again.

Neither of them speak as Janus cleans and dresses the fresh cuts on Patton’s leg. (The old scar from the last time Janus patched him up is healing nicely, he notes, pleased to see that the butterfly strips did their job well in reducing the amount of scarring. ~~Patton is too pretty to have to bear such ugly wounds.~~ )

_Why_ is he so flustered today? He’s being almost as romantic as _Roman._

Once the wounds are cleaned and safely covered, Janus holds out his hand and helps Patton to his feet, letting him pull his khakis back up over his boxers. (Janus _definitely_ isn’t filing the fact that they have cats on them away for later.) Patton sits back down, and when Janus gestures to the mattress next to him, Patton nods, granting him permission.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Janus asks, lacing their fingers together. God knows Patton doesn’t ask for nearly as much physical affection as he needs, and Janus is so touch-starved, he’s more than willing to help out. (They’ve had quite a few cuddle sessions since the first time Patton asked for Janus’ help. Apparently, being held by six arms at once is exactly the level of cuddling that Patton needs, especially with Roman and Virgil being so wrapped up in each other, and Logan being too socially awkward to ever initiate physical contact.)

Patton shrugs. “I don’t know, I just… I know I’m supposed to go to the others when I’m upset, but… Roman still looks so _skinny,_ and Logan is always holed up in his room, and Virgil just looks so exhausted all the time, and… I don’t want to bother them with the fact that I’m a little sad. And today… I just got so tired of fighting it. It doesn’t really matter, anyway.”

Janus lays a hand on Patton’s cheek, gently turning his head. “Patton, look at me, please.” Patton does -- Janus doesn’t miss the way Patton practically nuzzles into his hand; good lord, he’s really going to have to talk to the light sides about this -- and they lock eyes.

“Listen to me. Your feelings matter, Patton. _You_ matter. You are important, and no one would see it as a bother to talk to you about your feelings. You’re Thomas’ heart; of course you feel things intensely, the good and the bad. It’s not fair for you to keep it bottled up, and hurting yourself is not a good outlet. You can rest assured I’m going to have a chat with the others, but even when you don’t feel like you can go to them, know you can always come to me.”

Patton frowns. “But you’re hurting too,” he says, playing with the edges of Janus’ sleeve.

They didn’t talk about it, the first time Janus took off his coat in front of Patton. It was a particularly warm day, even in the mindscape, and Janus hadn’t really thought about it when he slid the fabric from his shoulders, shifting around in Patton’s arms. Sure, Janus knew that every one of his arms was littered with scars, both old and new, and he knew that Patton would be able to see. Somehow, Patton knew not to comment, simply running his fingers softly over the marks he could reach. Neither of them had brought it up since then.

“That’s nothing,” Janus says now, too late to be convincing.

“Dee.” Patton’s voice is soft, and he plucks Janus’ hat off his head, setting it aside in favor of running his fingers through Janus’ hair. Janus tries and fails not to lean into the touch. “What was it you just said to me? ‘Your feelings matter. _You_ matter. It’s not fair for you to keep it bottled up, and hurting yourself is not a good outlet.’”

“Okay, I deserved that,” Janus admits.

“You’re beautiful.”

Judging by his expression, Patton definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud; his eyes are wide, and he pulls his hands away from Janus’ hair to cover his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t-”

“Don’t,” Janus says, interrupting him. “You don’t need to apologize for that.”

That… wasn’t a lie. Janus always knows when a side is lying, to themself or someone else, and Patton was being completely honest there.

Is that really how he sees him?

He’s leaning forward before he’s aware of it, eyes fluttering closed. A small part of his mind is screaming that this is a terrible idea, that he’s going to ruin this -- Remus is wonderful, but he’s not much for cuddling, only happy with it for a short time before he gets restless or raunchy -- but then there are lips on his, and a hand in his hair, and nothing else matters.


	19. Relapse, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, I have managed to avoid speaking to or even really seeing my sister since Monday. Mostly I do this by hiding in my room and getting takeout for every meal. (For the love of all that is sane and sacred I am getting really sick of burgers.)
> 
> Also, Pinky moved out! Finally! I liked her at first, but eventually her vibes just started to rub me the wrong way and I just desperately wanted her gone.
> 
> Anyway, yeah, have some angst. I may or may not have forgotten to post this morning because I got distracted by Animal Crossing/waiting for "Has Death Always Been a Subjective Term?" by TheLastDemiWarriorNinjaofFireSide (I'm writing that from memory but I THINK that's their username) to update.

Virgil is crying.

He doesn’t want to be crying -- god, he _hates_ crying -- but everyone he loves is in so much pain and he can’t do anything to help and no matter how many times he wipes at his cheeks -- his makeup is completely ruined, he’s sure -- the tears just keep coming, and it’s all he can do to shove a fist in his mouth and bite down to keep from crying out.

He could never live with himself if one of the others saw him like this.

Sure, Roman has helped him through a fair few panic attacks since they started dating, but nothing like this. Virgil doesn’t cry much, so when he does, it’s loud and violent and excruciating, every sob ripped from his chest no matter how hard he tries to keep them in. It’s dramatic and it’s painful and he hates every second of it.

And god, nothing even _happened_ . He doesn’t even really know _why_ he’s upset, just that he was listening to music and he knocked his water bottle over and it cracked down the side and spilled all over the floor and now he’s sitting in the middle of a puddle with his fist shoved in his mouth, trying to muffle the desperate sobs that keep forcing their way out of his throat.

He wants to hurt. _God,_ does he want to hurt. Cutting is the only thing that ever helps when he gets like this -- his options are to go for the razor or wait it out, and he’s sick of being a broken, snotty mess.

So he’s in the bathroom before he’s fully processed what he’s doing, hoodie cast aside, biting hard onto his lip in an effort to contain the sobs.

A small part of him knows Roman will be upset when he finds out, and the thought almost makes him hesitate, but the blade is already in his hand and he’s moving before he realizes it, decorating his skin red, red, red.

The tears are sliding down his cheeks silently now -- and yeah, a quick glance into the mirror shows he was right about the makeup; his face is a splotchy red mess, streaked with pale foundation and black eyeshadow -- but at least the sobs have died down, becoming quiet, hiccuping whimpers instead.

It’s only then that he looks down at himself and starts to process what he just did.

Shit.

It’s not that bad, honestly; a bit of hydrogen peroxide, some gauze, and a couple of weeks’ time, and he’ll be good as new. But… he’s going to have to tell Roman. And he _hates_ the idea of hurting his prince like this.

_You just can’t do anything right,_ he thinks to himself, and he doesn’t have the energy to come up with something Roman would say to deny it.

But first, he has to get cleaned up. No sense freaking Roman out more by showing up looking like a walking nightmare. (Besides, Virgil trusts Ro not to make fun of him, but that doesn’t make being vulnerable any easier.)

Disinfecting his arm stings like hell, and not in the good way. Virgil isn’t even totally sure he _needs_ to -- he’s not sure injuries can get infected in the mindscape -- but frankly, he’d rather not find out the hard way. After that, it’s a simple matter of slapping a gauze pad onto his arm and securing it with a bandage, wiping off the streaks of black on his cheeks -- god, you can see his depression like this, this is why he doesn’t look in the mirror without his makeup on -- and applying fresh foundation and eyeshadow to his ~~hideous~~ face.

Finally, he can’t put it off any longer, so it’s with a sigh and a muttered “Let’s get this over with” that he pulls on his hoodie and exits the bathroom, flicking the light off as he goes.

And then he steps in a puddle with his socks on, and he remembers that his water bottle is broken now, and he can’t just _leave_ it like this, right? What if the water damages the floorboards? (He resolutely ignores the fact that he could just wave the mess and any resulting damage away as he trudges back into the bathroom to get a towel.)

Cleaning up the mess from his broken water bottle doesn’t take as long as he’d like it to, and all too soon he finds himself standing outside Roman’s room, knocking on the door.

After a long moment, it swings open, revealing a rather disheveled-looking Roman. “Oh, Virgil, hi,” he says, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hey, Ro. I, uh… I need to talk to you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Roman closes the door and takes Virgil’s hand, leading him into the Imagination -- their preferred place to talk things out. “What’s up, storm cloud?” he asks as they sit down on the grass.

“Well, I, uh… I kinda… lost the streak,” he says vaguely, picking at the blades of grass in front of him. “I’m sorry, Ro.” God, he hopes Roman understands what he’s trying to say. He doesn’t think he can be any more specific than that.

Judging by the way Roman’s eyes widen and his expression softens into sympathy, he knows exactly what Virgil means.

“Oh, V, that’s okay. Do you… Do you want to talk about it?”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, it’s just… hard, you know? I’m so used to that being my first instinct, and it’s just… really hard to resist sometimes. And I was already stressed out with everything else and then I broke my water bottle and it was just… too much.”

“Oh, baby, I know.” Roman pulls him into a tight hug, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair. “It’s okay. I know it’s hard… You’re not the only one,” he adds, almost too soft for Virgil to hear.

Virgil leans away so he can look Roman in the eye. “What?”

“Well…” Roman is suddenly very interested in the grass at his feet. “I might have, uh… relapsed a couple of times, too.”

“Oh, _Princey,_ ” Virgil breathes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Roman shrugs. “I didn’t want to bother you? I guess? I mean, you already caught me… you know… and I didn’t want to make it any worse.”

“Roman, look at me,” Virgil says, lacing his fingers with Roman’s. “You’re not making anything worse by telling me how you’re feeling, okay? I’d rather you tell me what’s wrong than have you bottle it up and let it hurt you even more.”

Roman nods. “I know, it’s just… It’s hard to remember, sometimes. I’m not really _used_ to the whole ‘letting people in’ thing.”

“I know, Ro, and I get it. This is weird for me, too, but we have to tell each other this stuff. I didn’t actually _want_ to come straight here after I got cleaned up, but I did it anyway, ‘cause I knew you’d rather I told you than not.”

“Wait, you came straight here?” Roman asks. “Which means, while I was in there,” he says, jabbing a finger at the doorway back to his room, “you were… Oh, _Virgil,_ I am so sorry.”

“Hey, Princey, no, none of that, okay? I may not be Deceit, but I’m good at hiding stuff, and I don’t really like people seeing me like… _that._ It’s not your fault. Just like I’m sure you’ll tell me it’s not my fault that I didn’t notice you struggling, even though I totally should have.”

Roman gestures to himself. “I am literally Thomas’ acting ability, V. I’m, like, the _king_ of pretending to be fine.”

Virgil laughs. “Okay, fair. No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: "I lost the streak" is how I told my own boyfriend last time I relapsed. Quarantine has been... fun.


	20. Relapse, Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm impatient and crave validation so I'm posting this chapter early. Also, Remus is just really fun to write and he has some of my favorite lines in this fic.

_This is a bad idea,_ Logan thinks as he walks down the hall. _This is likely a very bad idea._

It’s two in the morning and Logan should be asleep, he _knows_ he should be asleep -- he lectures Thomas enough about his sleeping schedule, and he tries to follow it himself -- but he can’t stop _thinking_ and he wants to _hurt_ so badly and he needs a distraction.

And, well, who could be more distracting than Remus?

All too soon, he finds himself standing outside the acid green door that bears Remus’ name, the silver crown over the R tilted and dripping blood -- in real time, Logan thinks, looking closely at it. But before he has a chance to knock, the door swings open, and he comes face-to-face with Remus himself, morning star slung over his shoulder.

“Oh!” he says, surprise and delight spreading over his features. “Hey, Lolo! What brings you to my little trash heap?”

Logan blinks, confused. “Remus, your room appears to be just like any other side’s room. I’m not certain why you referred to it as a ‘trash heap’.”

With just a thought, Remus fills the room behind him with garbage. “There! Now I’m not the only piece of trash in here!” he says gleefully -- Logan doesn’t miss the slight crack in his voice on the word ‘trash’, and it gives him a disturbing urge to hug Remus. “But really, Lolo, I thought you’d be asleep with how much you’re always telling Thomas to go to bed early.”

“That was my intention,” Logan explains as Remus vanishes the piles of garbage behind him. “However, I appear to be having trouble with some… urges, and I thought you might be able to help me with that.”

Remus’ face lights up, throwing his morning star back into his room haphazardly. “Gladly!” he says, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. “Your room or mine? Or- oh, do you want to do it on the couch? How about the kitchen? Ooh, Patton would _hate_ that! Let’s go!”

“No,” Logan says, blushing violently. “Not sexual urges, although honestly, I might prefer that to this.”

Remus frowns. “Well, then what kind of- Oh.” His face falls.

Logan nods. “I was hoping you could distract me.”

“Sure, Lolo!” Remus grabs his wrist and pulls him down the hall and out into the living room, plopping them both onto the couch.. “What do you want to do?”

“Well, I don’t know. What do you like to do?”

If Logan thought Remus’ face lit up at the idea of having sex with Logan, he’s positively _glowing_ now. “Ooh! Ah…” He seems to think for a moment, before his eyes focus on Logan again. “Have you ever played Just Dance?”

“I have not, although I believe Thomas has played it several times, so I do understand the rules of the game.”

“Perfect!” Remus drags Logan to his feet, and within moments they’re standing in front of a brightly-colored TV screen, Nintendo Switch controllers in their hands. “What song do you wanna do?”

“Something with rap, please. I have an appreciation for poetry.”

Remus nods, scrolling through the song list until he gets to the one he’s looking for.

Surprisingly, Logan finds he’s actually quite good at Just Dance. He even comes close to winning the first round. Although…

“I don’t understand why this artist is just rhyming the word ‘guy’ over and over,” he says once the song ends. “I suppose there were also rhymes like ‘tough’ and ‘rough’ just before that word, but many of those lines ended with the word ‘guy’, and rhyming a word with itself is hardly inventive.”

Remus shrugs. “I dunno. It’s fun, though!” He flails dramatically in an imitation of one of the dance moves from the song, even though they’re not playing a round right now.

Despite himself, Logan laughs. Remus is… exactly what he needed, tonight. He hasn’t thought about hurting himself since they started playing -- except, of course, that thought, where he noted his lack of thoughts about hurting himself.

It’s a few hours later, when they’re both lying on the couch, panting heavily from exertion, that Logan looks over at Remus and feels something flutter in his chest.

_Oh, no._

_Now_ he’s thinking about hurting himself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note to all of you guys who were leaving comments asking if I'm okay: y'all are the sweetest things, but I'm fine, really. My situation may not be ideal, but I'm a lot better off than a LOT of other people. You're really kind for checking in on me, though.


	21. I Think I'm Catching Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have, like, one or two more chapters written and ready after this one, so I think I'm gonna change the update schedule to only Fridays. I need some extra time to figure out where the hell this story is going.
> 
> Also, I got 5 stars on my island. Somehow. I think it's kinda crappy but Isabelle approves, so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Logan manages to avoid Remus for an entire week. This feat is made all the more difficult by the fact that Patton has started letting Remus join them for meals, now that Thomas knows about him; the freshly bandaged lines hidden beneath Logan’s jeans could figuratively speak to how much he’s been struggling with this situation. But, finally, he is cornered. Remus rises up while Logan is working, parking himself on Logan’s desk -- directly on top of his planner, he might add.

“You’re avoiding me,” he accuses, pouting.

“Ah. Hello, Remus,” Logan says, setting his pen down. “Did you need something?”

“You’re avoiding me,” Remus says again. “Why? I thought we had fun the other night.”

“We did. Or, well, I did. I can’t speak for you.”

“I did,” Remus affirms. “So why are you avoiding me?”

“I believe I should apologize for my behavior. I did not intend to upset you.” Logan takes a deep breath. “I am avoiding you because I seem to be developing… romantic feelings, for you, and I did not wish to exacerbate the problem with social contact.”

Remus blinks. “You have… feelings for me?” he asks, confused. “Why?”

“Why not? You’re enjoyable to be around, and you are not unattractive. Additionally, you are quite good at distracting me from my more self-destructive urges. However, as those urges are centered around my desire to not have feelings, I thought it would be counter-productive to spend time with you, as you are currently causing me to have many feelings.”

Remus stares obviously at Logan’s lap. Logan blushes and folds his hands in his lap in an effort to block Remus’ gaze.

“Lolo,” he says slowly, “you know you’re  _ allowed _ to have feelings, right?”

Logan looks at him, confused. “I am Logic. What use does Logic have for feelings?”

Remus frowns, and judging by the crease between his eyebrows, he’s thinking rather hard. “Okay, well, let’s look at this  _ logically, _ then, Mister. If you don’t need feelings, why do you have them? There must be a reason for it, right?”

Logan blinks. “I… hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“I mean, think about it,” Remus continues. “If you’re not supposed to  _ have _ feelings, why would you have them? You’re a lot more than Logic, you know. A  _ lot _ more.” Remus glances pointedly at Logan’s lap again, pulling Logan’s hands away. Logan can feel his face turning beet red under the weight of Remus’ stare.

“Remus,” Logan says slowly, “I believe I would like to kiss you now.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice!” Suddenly, Logan finds himself with a lapful of Remus. He starts to worry about whether his desk chair can hold both of them at once, but then Remus’ lips are on his and his hands are going places and he isn’t thinking about much of anything anymore.

Surprisingly, Logan discovers that Remus is a very attentive lover. For all of his bravado, he’s quite respectful of Logan’s boundaries, and he doesn’t question it or push when Logan refuses to let things go farther than wandering hands and experimental kisses. A short while later, they’re lying contently on Logan’s bed, awash in the afterglow and the calming effects of Logan’s room.

“What’s that one?” Remus asks, pointing up at a constellation on Logan’s ceiling.

“That constellation is Ursa Major. Its name means “the great bear” or “the larger bear” in Latin. It’s the third largest constellation in the sky, and it’s tied to ancient Greek myths wherein Zeus seduced one of the hunters of Artemis, named Callisto. I understand if you don’t want to hear them, though,” Logan adds softly, trailing off.

“Tell me,” Remus insists. “Please,” he adds, as an afterthought.

“Well, as I said, Callisto was one of the hunters of the goddess Artemis. All of the hunters had to swear off men, but Zeus managed to seduce Callisto anyway. They had a son together, whom they named Arcas, and Callisto was subsequently banished by Artemis and turned into a bear by Hera. Later, when Arcas was older, he met the bear Callisto in the woods and attacked her with a spear. Zeus saw this and transformed them both into constellations to prevent their deaths. If Arcas had killed Callisto, even if she was a bear, he would have been guilty of matricide, and he would have been put to death and subsequently tortured for his crime in the underworld. Hera was upset by Zeus’ intervention, and convinced her foster parents to never let the constellation-bear bathe in northern waters, which is why Ursa Major never dips below the horizon in certain parts of the northern hemisphere -- at least, according to the Greeks. There are other versions of the tale, where Artemis was the one who turned Callisto into a bear, or where Arcas became the constellation Ursa Minor -- that’s the smaller one, there, just above Ursa Major -- or where Arcas and Callisto were both taken as prisoners to King Lycaon. From there, they escaped and hid in the temple of Zeus. The punishment for trespassing in Zeus’ temple was death, but according to the legend, Zeus intervened and placed them both in the sky, at which point Hera became upset and spoke to her foster parents about it, et cetera.”

“Cool.”

After a long moment of silence, they both hear footsteps on the stairs; judging by the gait and the humming, it’s Patton coming to get Logan for dinner.

“Do you mind if I mess with him a little?” Remus asks, sitting up eagerly.

“As long as it’s nothing that will hurt anyone, I don’t see why not.”

Remus’ eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a lewd moan. Logan sits up and pulls his hands back, confused.

“ _Ohhh,_ _yes, Daddy, yes!_ ” Remus cries. “ _Right there, Daddy! Oh!”_ Logan isn’t touching him, and Remus isn’t touching himself, but… Logan genuinely can’t tell if the noises are fake or not. Either Remus is an excellent actor, or he has some very strange powers. (Logan makes a mental note to investigate this later.)

The footsteps outside the door quickly recede. Remus opens his eyes and grins mischievously at Logan.

Ah, well. They can just heat up some leftovers when they get hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan's infodump is of information I found here:  
> https://www.constellation-guide.com/constellation-list/ursa-major-constellation/


	22. Putting Others First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... I have absolutely no idea where this story is going, but here's (one of) my take(s) on events immediately following POF.

Things go to shit right about when Thomas gets home from the wedding.

They were headed that way for a long time, but that’s when they come to a head.

Because suddenly, Patton doesn’t have all the answers. Suddenly, they’re supposed to trust Deceit --  _ Janus _ \-- even though Roman was vilified for suggesting that in the courtroom. Suddenly, Roman isn’t the hero.

He hasn’t been the hero for a very long time.

He doesn’t have a plan when he sinks out. He has absolutely no idea where he wants to go; all he knows is that he can’t stay  _ there. _ So he sinks out, reaching desperately for any sort of relief.

He’s not actually  _ sure _ how he wound up in Remus’ side of the Imagination. But that’s where he finds himself, falling to his knees on the brittle grass. Vaguely, he hears dance music coming from somewhere, but he can’t bring himself to get up and look for it. Instead, he lets his body sag to the ground, rolling over to stare up at the sky.

It’s not actually as bad over here as he thought it would be. Sure, the grass is kind of poky, and there are storm clouds as far as the eye can see, but it’s… almost nice, especially for Remus. No nightmare creatures or mysterious fluids anywhere he can see.

“Roman?” a voice calls, and reluctantly he props himself up on his elbows, looking around for the source of the call.

A few yards away, Roman can see Remus and Virgil walking towards him, each holding Switch controllers. Huh. He didn’t know Virgil ever hung out with Remus.

~~ He’s not jealous. What? ~~

Virgil picks up the pace a bit, jogging over to his side. “Ro, what are you doing here?” Then he catches sight of his face. “Are you okay?” Virgil sinks to his knees next to him.

“Who did that,” Remus asks lowly, conjuring his morning star. It’s not really a question.

“Deceit-  _ Janus _ -” Roman chokes out, throat closing, and then he’s hurling himself into Virgil’s arms and crying desperately into his shoulder. He doesn’t even care how un-princely he must look; it’s not like anyone actually sees him as the hero anyway.

“Hey, Ro, baby, it’s okay,” Virgil says above him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. Just let it out.”

Vaguely, Roman can hear crunching sounds in the background. He tries not to think about what horror Remus is beating the shit out of this time, even though it is kind of touching that he’s that upset on Roman’s behalf.

Finally, after what feels like ages, Roman runs out of tears, but Virgil doesn’t let go. He just holds him, running his fingers through Roman’s hair, and together they turn and watch Remus absolutely  _ demolish _ some multi-headed snake beast with spider eyes and large black wings sprouting from its back.

“What are you doing here?” Roman asks, eventually.

“Remus wanted someone to play Just Dance with,” Virgil explains, “and I didn’t really want to deal with the whole wedding thing, so… we’ve been hiding out here.”

“It’s a lot nicer than I expected. No tentacles or deer with human teeth or whatever.”

“Yeah, Remus cleaned this area up a bit so we could play without me freaking out. The setup’s over there.” Virgil points back in the direction he came from, and for the first time Roman notices the living room-esque setup a few yards away. 

After a while, Remus finishes utterly destroying the snake-spider-dragon thing, and flops down on the grass next to them, bloodied morning star lying at his side.

“What did Dee do?” he asks, voice hard, and Roman’s heart swells. It means a lot to him that Remus is so willing to murder anyone who hurts him, even when that person is Remus’ own boyfriend.

“Deceit --  _ Janus _ \-- he told us his name, and I… wasn’t very kind about it, and… he said something rather harsh in return. I deserved it, but… it still hurt.”

Remus sinks out without another word, expression pained.

“What did he say?” Virgil asks, still carding his fingers softly through Roman’s hair. “And for that matter, what did  _ you _ say? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that, Ro.”

Roman gulps. “Well… He told us his name, and I may have… laughed at it.”

Virgil stiffens.

“I don’t know why, I know it was stupid and cruel and I shouldn’t have done it, it’s just… I don’t understand! I suggested we trust him back in the courtroom, and I was wrong. Then I said we shouldn’t trust him, today, and somehow I’m wrong again? How does that make sense? And then he, um… might have compared me to Remus.”

“What did he say, exactly?” Virgil asks.

“He said… He said it was good that I didn’t have a moustache, because he wouldn’t be able to tell who the evil twin is.”

Virgil lets out an  _ oof. _ “Okay, that was a low blow, but… you did kinda swing first, Ro.”

“I know. I have to apologize, don’t I?”

Virgil nods. “Yeah, but so does he. I think we should probably get out of here first, though. I don’t want to know what kind of shit goes on in this place when Remus isn’t here to keep it out of sight.”

* * *

Remus rises up into Janus’ room, a million angry questions on the edge of his tongue.  _ No one _ gets to hurt his brother like that -- not even his boyfriend.

Every one of them dies when he sees Janus, sitting on his bed, head in his hands.

He looks so…  _ broken. _

“Hey,” Remus says softly. Janus starts, looking up in surprise.

“Oh, Remus. I, er… I  _ don’t  _ need to talk to you about something.”

Well, shit. Janus must be truly worked up.

“Ro said he made fun of your name,” Remus says, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “That was mean.”

“In his defense, I didn’t say something rather unkind as well. I should have, but… It wasn’t a tense situation, and… I didn’t just  _ react. _ That’s… not actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Remus.” Janus breaks Remus’ hold, leaning back to look him in the eye. “I’m not sorry, Remus, I don’t know what I said was wrong.”

“What did you say, Jan?”

“I… ‘Roman, thank God you don’t have a moustache. Otherwise, between you and Remus, I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is.’”

_ Oh. _

“Bet that went over well, huh?”

“Yes. You’re… you’re mad?” Janus asks, uncertain.

“About that? Nope.” Remus pops the  _ p _ loudly. “I know I’m evil.”

“But you  _ are, _ Remus, and it was fair for me to say that. I didn’t only say it because I knew it would upset Roman the most. I…” He takes a deep breath, fighting to control the layers of lies concealing his words. “I don’t think that about you, Remus. And that’s the truth.”

“I know, Janny. But thanks anyway.”

“...I have to apologize to Roman, don’t I?”

“Eh, not right now. Virgil can deal with him for a while. In the meantime, you may be interested to know that I beat your high score on “Bad Guy” the other night with Lolo.”

Janus gasps, mock-offended. “How dare you!”

“What can I say?” Remus asks, grinning widely before breaking out into his favorite parody of the chorus. “I’m the trash type, might just mow your grass type, might just eat your ass type-”

Janus hits him in the face with a pillow, knocking him solidly onto the bed. “Spare me.”

“I’m a  _ dumbass _ ,” Remus says, sitting up. He  _ loves _ seeing Janus’ face whenever he does the voice glitch thing.

“FUCK!” Janus screams at the top of his lungs, finishing the meme. Remus cackles and plants a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.  _ God _ , he’s so lucky.

(Thoughts of his night with Logan creep into the back of his mind like tentacles. Hey, maybe he could get Janus  _ and _ Logan to do something with him…)

(He totally doesn’t have an evil plotting face. What are you talking about, Janus? This is just his face.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my comments on the document where I write this just said, "Remus is going to owe so much money to the self-deprecation jar by the end of the fic."


	23. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah hi I'm dying how are you??
> 
> Not literally, but I can't stop bouncing my legs even though my feet are starting to go just a little bit numb from it and my room is either too hot or too cold no matter what I do and RSD is kicking my ass because I said I think cats are supposed to go to the vet at least once a year and my mom took it as an attack against her (and it kind of was but I feel bad about it) and ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
> 
> Aaaanyway. This is the last chapter I have written. It's not supposed to be the end of the fic, but I never actually planned this out, I just kind of started writing this and it went a little off the rails and I have absolutely no idea what I was going to have happen next, so. If I ever actually do update this, it will probably not be very soon. Or who knows, maybe later tonight I'll be overcome with creative fervor and I'll write like seven more chapters in one sitting, idk.
> 
> Thank you all for reading this far, and thank you for listening to me ramble about Animal Crossing and my family and whatnot. Have some angst.  
> \- Jules, they/them

The first thing that happens when Janus walks into the living room is Virgil hissing angrily, throwing his hood up and hiding behind Roman, who immediately jumps to his feet and draws his sword.

“I haven’t even  _ done _ anything yet,” Janus protests.

“So you admit you’re going to do  _ something! _ ” Roman shouts. Janus sees the way Virgil shrinks into himself at the loud noise, and he frowns at Roman for it.

“If by  _ something, _ ” Janus replies evenly, “you mean I’m here to apologize, then yes. Virgil, could I have a moment alone with Roman?”

Virgil leans carefully out from behind Roman. He looks at Janus, then taps Roman’s wrist to get his attention.

It’s eerie, how they seem to communicate with just their eyes. Thankfully it only lasts a moment, before Virgil looks back to Janus and says, “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”

“Understood.” Janus swallows thickly. He’s seen Virgil’s fight-or-flight response activated plenty of times, but the very few times he chose ‘fight’ still haunt Janus’ nightmares.

Virgil fixes him with a tense stare, then presses a kiss to Roman’s cheek and sinks out.

Roman and Janus stand on opposite sides of the room, a thick silence filling the air. Janus is half-tempted to grab Roman’s sword and try to cut through it, but even as he has the thought, Roman is sending the sword back to his room.

“Well?” Roman prompts. “Let’s get it over with.”

“You know, you said some rather hurtful things at our last meeting, too, Roman,” Janus says coldly, defensive instincts rising up before he can stop them. “I’m not the only one who needs to apologize.”

“I know,” Roman mutters, his shield of bravado faltering for just a moment. “But we both know you’re not actually here to do that.”

Janus stops, taken aback. “What?”

“Don’t try to lie to me, snake. I let Virgil go because I didn’t want him to see this. Just… Get it over with.”

“I’m sorry,  _ what? _ Get _ what  _ over with?”

“I don’t know! Whatever it is you came to do! Go ahead! Insult me! I’m sure you already know it’s just as good as a physical strike, and you don’t seem like the type to get your hands dirty.”

Janus stares, open-mouthed. “Roman, I would  _ never- _ ”

“Don’t  _ lie _ to me!” Roman roars, eyes wild and confused, shining with tears. “Just do it! We both know I deserve it!”

Oh,  _ good lord. _ Janus knew Roman had quite a few problems -- especially after the incident in Remus’ room a few months ago -- but he never expected this.

(It’s his fault, he knows. He used Roman, and then he turned his back on the fallout. He blocked out the lies that Roman was telling himself, in an attempt to give him some privacy.)

(That was a mistake, he sees now. Mistake #7,066, but who’s counting?)

“Roman-” he starts, an apology forming on his tongue, but Roman cuts him off.

“What? Are you  _ scared? _ ”

_ He’s goading me, _ Janus thinks.  _ He’s trying to coerce me into saying something harsh, because he thinks he deserves it. Oh, God, I’ve fucked up. _

“Come on! You’ve never held back before! No one is here to stop you, just  _ do it! _ ”

“Roman,  _ stop _ ” Janus snaps. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Oh, you can’t possibly expect me to believe that.” Roman’s voice cracks, and  _ god, _ he just looks so broken. Janus can’t take it anymore.

With a wave of his hand, he silences Roman. “I’m sorry about this,” he says, “but you weren’t listening. I’m not here to hurt you, Roman, and despite what you think, you don’t deserve it. Yes, your comments about my name hurt, but I had no right to strike back in the way that I did -- especially when I know how much you hate being compared to Remus, and how much you’re… struggling, lately. And I’m sorry, Roman. Truly.”

Roman is crying, tears streaming down his cheeks and over his hand, which is still clasped over his mouth. Janus flicks his wrist, relinquishing his hold on Roman, but the hand doesn’t move, and he realizes Roman is trying to hold himself together, trying to keep the desperate, broken pieces of himself from flying apart, especially in front of someone he doesn’t trust. His knees give way, and he starts to sink out, but Janus is across the room in an instant, holding him up and keeping him grounded in the common space.

“None of that,” he says softly, using the same voice he used on Patton, the last time he found him in the midst of a relapse. He eases Roman to the ground, leaning his back against the wall, and sits down beside him. “I can get Virgil if you want -- you don’t have to stay with me -- but you don’t get to be alone right now.”

“Don’t-” Roman gasps, sobs breaking out of him in between his words, “don’t wanna bo- bother him. Let me go.”

“I’m not going to do that, Roman. We both know what will happen if I leave you alone in this state, and frankly, I don’t need to give Virgil any more reasons to hate me. Either I get Virgil, or one of the others, or you stay here with me. It’s your choice.”

Roman shrugs, a dry chuckle escaping between gasping breaths. “Might as well stay here. Not like I have any dignity left anyway,” he adds wryly.

“I truly am sorry, Roman,” Janus says after a long moment. “And not just for the comment I made the last time we spoke. I didn’t fully understand how deeply you take things to heart, even though I should have, and I hurt you because of that. You have every reason not to trust me. I see that now.”

Roman doesn’t speak, but Janus can practically hear the thoughts whirling around in his head. A frivolous part of him -- the part that listens to Remus too much -- wants to knock one of those thoughts loose, to find out what’s going on in that head.

“...Thank you,” Roman says finally. “Both for your apology, and for trying to help Virgil. He told me what you did,” he explains. “And you definitely fucked it up, but I see the intention. I want to help him too.”

They lapse into comfortable silence, hovering somewhere in the area of a truce, even if they aren’t quite there yet.

By the time Virgil comes back down to check on Roman, Janus is gone, but Roman looks considerably lighter, like a weight has been removed from around his neck.


End file.
